How to keep from hibernating during the "Carboholidays" ?

sThe holidays are upon us and with them come parties, family dinners, Christmas cookies, pies, cold weather, insane schedules, flues and multiple other distractions. After a week-long carbohydrate induced stupor, I have come to the conclusion that I need to do better navigating December than I did November or more precisely, Thanksgiving Day. I actually started out well, even hitting the gym before I began my cooking marathon, but I made my first mistake when I decided to partake in our traditional Cream Chipped Beef on Toast breakfast. I even held back and only indulged in one piece of toast, but apparently that was one piece too many and before we even got to Thanksgiving dinner, I had an esophageal spasm....one of the less pleasant leftovers from my last surgery.

I was determined to persevere, however, because I had not been able to enjoy the previous Thanksgiving. I had been three months post surgery, still had a PEG tube in and could only manage soft foods in small amounts. This year I was PEG tube free and feeling much better. My husband and I declared a "Carboholiday" for the weekend and granted ourselves permission to indulge in all of our favorites. So as I calmed my digestive system from breakfast, I proceeded to prepare Turkey, Ham, sausage stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, and home-made cranberry sauce. My friends brought our other favorites, green bean casserole, pineapple fluff ( if you've never had it, you need to try it!) and pies, pies, pies! I ate, ate, and ate. The end result was five hours of cooking for thirty minutes of bliss followed by five days of stomach distress, work-out apathy and an unrelenting urge to hibernate.

If I am truthful, I can't blame my apathy on the carbohydrates alone. I let family, weather, parties and Christmas shopping distract me as well. Everything else seemed more important than sticking to a routine. I finally caught hold of myself mid-week and pondered the problem for several days. Things certainly weren't going to slow down. Our calendar was already filling with get-togethers. We had family coming in and I knew that food temptations would be high. Finally it occurred to me that my best chance for navigating the weeks ahead was to set my path by establishing a few concrete goals and putting them to the blogosphere....after all, it has worked for me in the past. So this month I am reverting back to old school and setting goals for the month.

Goal 1: Clock 28 miles per week on my pedometer (I've replaced the one my puppy thought was a toy)
Goal 2: No bread. I'm still planning on allowing myself flexibility with my Carb choices this month ...after all it is the holidays, but since bread is the biggest culprit in setting my stomach off, it's out for December.

Against All Odds

Yesterday was a bit hectic. I was surprisingly busy at work as people were trying to wind up their last items before heading out for the holidays. I had my in-laws coming in and needed to complete a few last touches on the house ...is the house ever ready enough for family? And I was determined to fit in a work-out that day, because I knew it would be a challenge to keep up my routine with family in town. I left the office a little later than expected, quickly headed to the store to pick up some last minute items, then raced home to get dinner in the oven and hurredly folded my last load of laundry. I glanced at the clock and determined if I wanted to get a work-out in, I only had little over an hour left to do it. So instead of taking the time to put my clothes away, I threw them in a basket, jumped in the car and headed to the gym.

Bye Bye Ear Phones!

I wouldn't have time to fit weights into the routine, but I could get a nice long walk in. I jumped on the treadmill, pressed the quick start button and started moving out. I pulled off my sweatshirt as I walked, and then placed my headphones on my ears and plugged them into the monitor. I switched channels until I landed on Law and Order, and then allowed myself to finally start picking up the pace. I was ready to zone. It was a few minutes later when I started noticing a crackling in my right ear. My first thought was that I probably had a little fluid in my ear. I had been fighting a cold aggravated by allergies for over a week and was still a fluid factory, but each time my ear crackled, I was also getting hit with a small sharp pain. I moved my head around and tried to change positions. Slowly I realized the crackling sharp pain was coming at surprisingly regular bursts. I removed the ear piece form my right ear and held it against my thumb. About a second later I felt a sharp sting. I was being shocked by my ear piece!

My first instinct was to jump off the treadmill. I examined the headphones and saw no break in the wires. Maybe the problem was coming from the treadmill I had been on and not the headphones, so I jumped on another treadmill and started my routine all over again. This time, however, instead of putting the ear piece in my ear, I held it against my thumb again to see if the pulsing continued. Much to my chagrin, the eair piece shocked me again. Probably the smartest move at that point would have been to simply chuck the headphones into the trash and keep walking sans sound, but I really hate walking on a treadmill without something to distract me, so instead I checked the left ear piece against my thumb.  When I determined that there were no electrical shocks flowing from that ear piece, I stuck the left side in and kept going.

Things progressed pretty well for another ten minutes or so, and then I felt a sharp stitch in my side. I slowed my pace until the pain subsided, and then after a few minutes tried to increase it again. Just like the electrical pulse in my ear piece, the pain came back. Apparently my cold was still playing a little havoc, and my body was not cooperating with my desire for speed. I was determined to finish this work-out, however, so I slowed my pace again, but kept going. About forty-five minutes in, I started feeling pain down my shins. Unbelievable! I wasn't even going that fast: I couldn't be stressing my shins. I tried walking through the discomfort for a few more minutes, but had visions of shin splints dancing in my head, and decided the smarter option was to slow my pace one more time. By now I felt like I was moving at a snail's pace, but then I glanced at the speedometer and had an "Oh Wow" moment. Even after reducing my pace multiple times, I was still walking at the original pace I used when I began this adventure ten months ago. It was a visible reminder of just how far I had come.

It hadn't been a great work-out, but I felt great anyways. I had finished the work-out despite the many calamities, and I was still working out ten months later despite the many hurdles. Heading into Thanksgiving, I can only say to everyone out there who has sent me encouraging comments, shared their stories with me, pushed me when I needed pushing, and bolstered me when I needed a boost, I am so very grateful for the support you have shown me this past year. I am where I am today, because of you.... against all odds. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

A Year Ago

My husband and I had a particularly good work-out Saturday morning. He ran a 10K outside while I put in four miles on the treadmill. I am a fair-weathered walker, so when it starts to get cold, I quickly migrate inside; he relishes the cool air in his face and continues to run outside until the sidewalks are covered in snow. We met up to lift weights after our run/walks. In between sets, he ruminated about how things had changed for him in the past few months. He remarked that a year ago, he never would have made a trip to the gym on the weekend, and he was sure he would have only managed one or two work-outs in the midst of a week involving three days of travel. This week, however, he had run a total of 27 miles, walked an additional four miles with me and pumped iron as well. A year ago, he would have began his day with a Coke and a Sausage McMuffin and ended his day with meat, potatoes and pasta.  This Saturday he started the day with a yogurt parfait and ended his day with grilled pork chops and vegetables.

The irony is a year ago, I think we both still considered Chuck to be far more dedicated to his fitness routine than the average man his age. While that may well have been true, it was also true that he had gradually allowed his work schedule to start dictating his work-out schedule. He still continued to run and work out regularly when he was in town, but he was typically on travel more days in a week than he was in the office. He combated this problem by staying at hotels with gyms so he could workout in his spare time, but as his traveled more and more often, he became less diligent about carving out time to use them. He still tended to try and eat healthier during the work week, but often got so caught up in work, he skipped meals and then compensated by eating larger portions when he did eat. They were all small shifts in his routine that weighed him down both literally and figuratively.

As I thought back to my life a year ago, I recalled a more dismal picture. Even though I was still paying dues to the last gym I had contracted with on one of my previous false starts, I certainly wasn't capable of a Saturday morning work-put at the gym. I was knee-deep in complications from my surgery and still sporting a PEG tube. My free time was spent mostly on the couch trying to save my energy to make it to work each week. The possibility of walking four miles in an hour would have been laughable.

As I wound up my work-out that morning, I found myself pushing just a little bit harder. I was incredibly grateful for how far I had come in a year, but what my husband's story proved was that staying fit took constant tending and continuing commitment.  While quitting assured failure, it seemed complacency could be dangerous as well.

Halloween Binges

I still love Halloween. I love the crisp, cool air, and the changing leaves that dress up the day. I love the sounds of the children as they run door to door eager to fill their sacks with more and more goodies. I love seeing the princesses, goblins, ghosts and zombies all puffed up with pride for their costumes. Halloween heralds the coming holiday season and never ceases to evoke a sense of heightened excitement for the days ahead.

It is somewhat of a family tradition that we meet the evening with a pot of Chili steeping on the stove and bags of candy ready in the foyer. This year was no different. We had purchased two massive bags of candy at Target the night before and in an effort to keep with tradition, decided to attempt our first low-salt batch of Chili sans the noodles and rice that we previously favored with it. We purchased No Salt Added Kidney Beans and No Salt Added Canned Tomatoes for the base. We stuck with hamburger meat in lieu of ground turkey, since we knew we would probably need the added flavor. We also threw in some low salt black-eyed peas, beer, tomato sauce, onion, fresh garlic, balsamic vinegar, chili powder, oregano, cinnamon, nutmeg, low fat/low salt Parmesan cheese and Ms Dash's table blend. Truth be told, the ingredients continued to grow as we kept taste testing and realized that the low salt content was putting a serious crimp in our usually zesty Chili.

The good news was that two hours later mixed with a little shredded grated cheese and sour cream, we had a passable chili. Lesson learned, however, it may be a better idea to google an actual low salt recipe for chili the next time versus trying to wing it. Bad news was it didn't quite hit the same spot that our tradition Chili Mac seemed to fill. Even worse, for the first time, our Trick-or-Treater traffic was on slow boil. What did this mean? Huge candy bowl next to the front door that wasn't in danger of being emptied anytime soon by the revelers, but was a fair target for a skinny girl who hadn't managed to quell her cravings that evenings. I confess.....I went on a Halloween candy binge. I might not have felt so bad about it, but we had decided to skip our usual Monday evening work-out. We had spent the previous weekend in New Orleans for a wedding, and needless to say, between walking the French quarter and dancing the night away at the reception, we had decided we deserved a night off to rest our aching calves.

I tried to ease my guilt by reminding myself of a favorite saying of one of my fit friends, "Everything counts!" This is the idea that our physical fitness level is affected by every physical activity we do, not just the activities that target exercising. Walking to the basement to ask a question instead of calling from upstairs, parking at the back of the parking lot to add a few more steps to our daily routine, cleaning, toting laundry, waxing cars, etc.... I believe that as well, which is why I adopted short daily exercise breaks at the office. So as I walked back and forth to the candy bowl, I told myself "Everything counts!" I recognized this was a stretch, but I still only allowed myself one piece of candy a trip. I won't go in to how many trips I made.

Today I am post Halloween binge hangover. The candy bowl has been moved to my daughter's room and lunch consisted of chicken and vegetables. The gym is calling my name. It is a new day, and today I will do better than yesterday.

Making Changes....

About two months ago, my husband went in for his annual physical. Truth be told, the visit was really driven by the fact his refills on his cholesterol medicine ran out. Neither of us expected much more from the visit than a new refill for his medications, so were both taken by surprise to find out that his blood pressure was high, his sugar was borderline high and according to the doctor, he was overweight. He was told he needed to go on a low salt diet modeling a South Beach approach to eating. The doctor wanted him to lose 15 pounds. He was giving him 30 days to try and get his blood pressure down, and then he would start him on blood pressure medicine.

Jimmie

The news hit us particularly hard. His brother had passed away suddenly and without warning of a massive heart attack five years ago. At the time Chuck had a full work-up done including a heart scan and walked away with a good report card. Now five years later, and almost three years post retirement, he had a completely different report card, and not only did it frighten us, but we found ourselves asking, "How did this happen?"

Chuck's lifestyle hadn't seemed to change that much over the years. When he traded his uniform for a suit, he still belonged to two gyms and even had a workout room he took advantage of at his office. But when he started to truly look at his actions through a microscope, he had to acknowledge that when he travelled he tended to miss work-outs. He also tended to eat heavier meals as he often had working dinners out, and he tended to be more stressed.....a bit ironic, since his last job involved being shot at. Since Chuck travelled a lot these small changes combined with age's naturally slowing metabolism was all it took to tilt the see saw in the wrong direction.

We immediately went to the grocery store and started ferreting out low sodium products. When we really started looking at the ingredients for sodium content we were stunned to see just how much sodium was in all of the foods we regularly ate. One of our favorite Sunday treats, chili dogs, was now off the menu (at least on a regular basis). It was quite eye-opening  when we discovered that even the low sodium chili  contained over twice the recommended sodium content. This was going to be a challenge, but to make matters worse, as we looked into the South Beach recommendation, we had to come to terms with the fact that we defined carb addiction. Our pantry was filled with pastas, and I had always modeled our meals after the "one starch, one vegetable, one meat and one bread" approach. If Chuck was going to be successful, I knew I needed to change my habits as well, and that would be a challenge. I could probably live without pasta, but I wasn't sure I could live without potatoes.

So we set out on a different approach to eating about two months ago. We emptied the candy bowl, and filled it with fruit. When my daughter came home to roost and complained, we set a small candy bowl in her room just for her and her friends... out of temptations way. We geared our meals towards meats and vegetables, and we cut out almost all starches and most sweets...I still allow myself a few desserts a week ...you just can't give up everything. We discovered Atkins low carb bars for the afternoon snacks, and they taste surprisingly like candy bars, but I have to admit, they fill you up, not leave you wanting more.

Chuck After

Chuck Before

Chuck made the commitment to working out while on travel and trying to make healthier choices at restaurants as well, and his efforts have paid off. He has lost 25 lbs, lowered his blood pressure and is looking pretty fine. I'm finding that this new approach seems to agree more often than not with my tempermental stomach which has been an added benefit for me. What I've really discovered, however, is the key to success seems to be working together as a supportive team. Making changes hasn't been all that hard because we've been making them together.

Gold Stars and Report Cards....

It's been awhile since I posted last, and I've started receiving some friendly notes from my village asking how things are going. Thank you to my friends and family for caring enough to keep motivating me! That is exactly the encouragement I was looking for when I began this. I knew the road would get tough at times and I would need silent support pushing me along the way, and you have never let me down.

This past month has been particularly full, and I find myself looking back to the first calm months of the year longingly. Simple days filled with an exciting new journey. Little did I know that my little quest would turn out to be the lifeline I needed to handle the challenges ahead, but I have always believed that God has a plan for the way ahead, and I think he opened a door that he knew would help me through the difficult days ahead.

In the past month, both of my children have returned home, and that is my silver lining. I know they are only perched for a short while, but I savor the time. It will be hectic and crazy days ahead, but filled with love, laughter and support while one waits for her loved one to return and the other steps forward in a new direction.

Needless to say, it has been a challenge to remain true to my efforts, but if I had to grade myself, I'd give myself a "B" for my work-out grade. I've continued working out despite the craziness, but have only just been meeting a regular schedule and have not been pushing myself to reach the next challenge.  On the blog grade...clearly an "F". I haven't been writing! On the nutrition side, however, I'd give myself an "A". I've made some pretty significant changes in my eating habits this past month prompted by changes directed for my husband from his doctor. I think I have finally found a healthier menu that works for me...but that is a subject for another day!

As GPA's go, the tally might not seem too high to anyone else, but as report cards go, I have to say, this one feels great to me. The old me would have garnered "F"s all around last month; the new me recognizes that sometimes a "C" average rates a gold star and perhaps a celebratory massage! I still haven't quit!

My Motivation

I've been fighting the motivation monster for the last few weeks. I've managed to stay on track, but if I am honest with myself, I would have to say that I haven't been going out of my way to push myself beyond my comfort zone. I've struggled almost daily with fights between the work-out angel on one shoulder and the red-horned sloth on the other shoulder, and while the angel won most of the arguments, the sloth won on occasion as well. The worst part is, even though I hate to admit it, the onset of my lack of motivation was directly linked to my husband's departure on his most recent work trip.

I've spent most of my married life, saying "Goodbye" to my husband. Up until two years ago, he was an active duty military officer. Long separations were part of the territory. I learned early on that if I wanted to live a fulfilled, happy life, I could not spend my life simply "waiting" for my husband to come home. Instead, I developed my own strategy for survival. I allowed myself a "Poor, Pity Me Day"  complete with pajamas all day long, Twinkies, ice cream, sad movies, and take-out. If the separation was for longer than a month, I would allow myself a few "Poor, Pity Me Days", but then I would kick things into high gear filling my days with as much as possible. The busier the better to pass the time with. After 9/11, the separations became longer and longer. Ultimately after deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, we decided that Chuck had served his country well and it was time to serve his family. So he retired from the military and took a job with a consulting firm.

In the new job, travel was still involved, but he always managed to make it home for the weekends, and since he wasn't being shot at by anyone, as things go, it was an improvement. Three weeks ago, however, he got a request to help on a proposal team, and for the first time since retiring, he was heading out on an extended trip. I didn't greet the news with a particularly supportive attitude, but once the initial dismay wore off, I thought to myself, "No problem, I've been doing this for years! What's one three week trip when I was already a veteran of year long absences!" 

So imagine my surprise when after a few days, I realized my "Poor Pity Me" strategy for coping that had served me well for 25 years wasn't working anymore. I had to push and prod myself to make my work-outs, push and prod myself to get out of the house when the work day was over, and push and prod myself to get stuff done around the house. I was confounded. Why couldn't I get out of my funk? Was this an empty nest thing?  Where was the woman who held down the home front while juggling kids, job, family support groups and the inevitable crises that arose when the spouses were away? I knew she was in there somewhere, but I was having a hard time finding her.

This past Monday I woke up and decided it was time to kick the attitude. After work I decided to hit a movie instead of staying home and as I sat in the theater waiting for it to start, it finally occurred to me that the problem wasn't that I had lost my ability to cope, I had simply lost my patience for it. When Chuck was on active duty, I lived with the expectation that he would leave for days, weeks, and months at a time, but when Chuck retired, I retired that expectation too, and with it the armor I had protected my heart with. It was an armor made up of a belief that while my husband served his country, I served it as well, only the service I provided was to keep the home front running so he could do his job without distractions.  I had packed that armor away with the uniforms and medals, and so in its absence, I found myself struggling to find meaning in a separation that didn't seem to have one. I could rise to the occasion for the greater good, but I was finding it difficult to rise to the occasion to support a paycheck; however, appreciative I was for it.

And just like that I found my motivation again. This wasn't about a paycheck, this was about a person. This was about supporting the person who always supported me. If this trip was important to Chuck, it was important to me too. The next day, I kicked @#$ on the Kettles, and even made it to another movie after work with friends. I was back on track just in time for my husband's return, and I had found a new armor for this second phase of our lives. Hopefully, I won't have to take it out much, but it was nice to know it was there if I needed it.

Something New

Last week I picked up a pedometer, so I could start trying to keep a more accurate tally of exactly how far I was walking on a regular basis each day. I tracked it for two whole days, and then forgot to attach it when I ran out the door Saturday morning to pick up my daughter from the ER. I spent the better part of the weekend hovering over my daughter after her first seizure in seven months. It's not that she needed me too; rather I needed to. I wanted to erase her pain and disappointment. She had passed the magic deadline and had a driver's license in her sights; I knew this was going to hit her hard. I could remind her that there was a time when we counted days between seizures instead of months, but while I knew she was thankful for how far she had come, like any other 24 year old, she still wanted the independence her own vehicle could provide her.  So I stayed near in case she needed me, and provided the little comfort she allowed me to give.

Monday morning, as I headed out the door to work, I went to find my pedometer to start keeping track again, only to discover that at some point during my prolonged absence on Saturday, my puppy had managed to find something new to play with. I added pedometer to the list of items I needed from the store and headed to work. After the sedentary weekend, I decided to fit in a few extra walks throughout the day. By the time I got home from work, Charlie was still not feeling her best, so instead of heading to the gym, I decided I would simply take Hines for a walk and then try out my new Kettle weight. I didn't expect to get a great work-out, but at least I would be able to work some of my muscle groups and that would make me feel less guilty about staying home.

I ripped open the package, and popped the DVD into the TV. I moved the furniture to give myself room to move, and then waited for the work-out to begin. It started nice and easy with some basic stretches. I was a little surprised, because I really had just expected an instructional video. Here is how to do exercise A, B, C, etc....instead, I realized it actually was a full work-out video routine incorporating the kettle. The first few moves seemed easy enough, but as we started into multiple repetitions, I found myself starting to breathe heavier very quickly. Ten minutes into the routine and I was huffing and puffing! I was frankly amazed, and was slightly relieved when the instructor pointed out that even seasoned athletes had difficulty in the beginning with these routines because they worked the body in a much different way than the other more traditional cardio routines people were used to.

I had to adjust my reps on certain exercises and fore go an exercise that pulled my back, but overall by the time I stopped, I had gotten in one very good work-out. My guilt was completely gone, and I was pleasantly surprised that I had found something new and challenging to turn to. The routine had worked all of my muscles and my heart as well.  The only down side that I could see was the slight fear that until I learned the routine by heart, my klutzy gene might strike, and in one of the many swinging motions involved, I would lose grip of the weight and fling it into the TV. (Mental Note: Always work-out in front of the TV my husband was lobbying for me to replace!)  This wouldn't be my every day routine, but it was definitely going to be a go-to routine on days that I had less time for my work-out or on days where the gym just was a trip too far.

The world seemed just a bit brighter, and once again I found myself calmed by a work out. It's taken me 46 years to get wise, but I'm finally figuring things out.

Slow and Steady wins the Race

Wednesday I finally made it back to the gym for the first time since round two of my bronchitis. I had continued walking through much of the illness, but had been forced to slow my efforts considerably as I  had been instructed by my doctor not to do anything beyond slow walks until I had completed the entire course of my second round of antibiotics.  It felt good to be able to hit the gym after so much time away, and I found that the slight apathy that had crept into my workouts pre-bronchitis had faded into the background with the renewed appreciation of good health.

Perhaps it was simply a by product of my renewed interest, but it seemed as I glanced around the gym, that everywhere I looked, some aspect of each person's work-out routine was catching my eye. The person on the treadmill next to mine wasn't simply walking, she was pumping 10 lb weights in each hand to match her strides. At the far end of the gym, one of the physical trainers was having his trainee do some sort of routine that seemed so complicated that I doubted that she would be able to replicate it once she had no trainer reminding her of the next step, and the women on the Ab machine's face was flushed such a deep red and she was sweating so profusely that I was seriously concerned that the next crunch was going to end with her clutching her chest.

I was struck by the differing routines and levels of efforts around me, and I randomly found myself thinking "Slow and steady wins the race". The person next to me on the treadmill only managed about ten minutes on the machine before she had to stop. The person working with the trainer had a defeated look in her eyes by the end of her session, and it occurred to me that I probably would never see her in the gym again. While the person on the Ab machine thankfully made that her last stop of the day.

Clearly every individual person is the best judge of what works for them, but as I surveyed the gym I found myself thinking that this penchant to overcomplicate the process or over reach didn't seem to be working for any of the three individuals I was looking at. None of them were in excellent shape. The person next to me on the treadmill may have simply been doing short bursts of cardio weight training and that had been her last for the day, but it was hard to imagine that the ten minutes she spent walking with weights gained more than the forty five minutes I spent walking pumping my arms. The women on the AB machine completed one short set before she walked away,  and I found myself wondering if she had used less weights or perhaps crunched a little slower, could she have achieved more. Was that short set on a weight machine more effective than the 250 crunches I did laying on a mat in the back room? Perhaps, I wasn't really sure. The women with the trainer was definitely sending off the "I'm done with this vibe". The trainer seemed to be completely oblivious to her deer in the headlights look and kept pushing her to do more and more complicated combinations of weight/cardio exercises. By the end, the only thing she reaped from spending time with that trainer was convincing herself she couldn't be successful. I was sure she would not be coming back. What she had needed wasn't whistles and bells, but a simple path to improving her fitness level that she could manage eventually on her own.

In the past I have almost always made the mistake of overshooting my goals. I let my ego lead the way, and I would start by trying to run instead of walking only to injure myself, or instead of starting with the smallest weights when I hadn't lifted for months, try and lift where I had left off the last time I tried to get fit. Inevitably I would end up ridiculously sore for days and sabotage my own progress. I would buy the unlimited monthly yoga pass thinking I would go every day only to go twice a month and waste money better spent on other things. What I've learned on this journey is: Simple definable goals minus ego plus simple, fun routines plus steady schedule = healthier girl for now.

A Slow Day

It doesn't happen very often that I find myself twiddling my thumbs for any length of time on the normal work day, but yesterday was one of those days. The phone wasn't ringing, the e-mail was sporadic and projects were held at bay waiting on information from other people. It was one of those days that we all dream of when the phone is ringing off the hook and our in box is overflowing, but when the day actually comes, it drives us up a wall. The clock moved at a snail's pace, and the day seemed to last a week. I worked on cleaning up old e-mails, cleaning out old files, and found my self circling the building of my office multiple times throughout the day to hasten it's end and take advantage of the weather.

On one of my many mini-outings that day, I started pondering how far I was really walking on these jaunts, and how were they adding to my efforts. It was a beautiful day, but we were on the precipice of cooler weather. Certainly it was going to be more of a challenge to keep up the efforts when the weather went south and a quick walk outside wouldn't feel so refreshing. How was I going to combat the natural urge to hibernate?

As luck would have it, apparently I wasn't the only one pondering the problem. It wasn't too much later that I stumbled across an article from Dr Oz on just that subject. Of course his primary advice was that you have to keep moving. Move your walking inside, take the long way through the grocery store to pick up your items, park farther away from the front door to force yourself to walk a little farther, and buy a pedometer, so you can keep track of how far you are really walking each day. When the trend slows, pick up the pace!

So last night I headed to Target and purchased my first pedometer. I also grabbed a Kettle ball on a whim.  It was time to start getting some weights for the house on those days when the gym was a car ride too far. Interestingly enough one of the targets that Dr Oz suggested was 10000 steps a day.  I have always thought of my walks in distance not steps, but it certainly provides a more visible image of how it impacts your body to think of the goal in steps. 10,000 seems like an enormous amount, and when you look at it over time it makes more of an impact. 70,000 steps a week, 300,000 steps a month, and 3,650,000 steps a year.

So my plan is to start exploring the idea in principle. Is 10000 steps enough? Will it seem easy or hard? Have I been walking anywhere near that on a regular basis? The truth is I don't know exactly how active or non-active I am each day on a regular basis. If I get to the gym, I know exactly how many miles I put in for that work out, but beyond that who knows, and one of the things I have come to recognize is it isn't enough to simply hit the gym four to five times a week. You have to look for ways to incorporate activity every day.

Rollercoasters

I have never been a huge fan of roller coasters. I hate that point at the top of the ride when you suddenly crest the ridge  and you are keenly aware that within seconds you will be plummeting madly towards the ground not really knowing if your cart will stay fixed to the rails or go careening wildy off the edge. Even though those few seconds only comprise a small portion of the ride, they are enough to sour the experience for me. I find I just don't get my kicks out of scaring myself. I don't like sky diving, bungee jumping or base jumping either. It's not that I'm not adventurous, just not into adventures that bring gut wrenching drops.

This past year has been a bit of a personal roller coaster ride. There have been a lot of ups and downs and twists and turns. I find I'm not much of a fan of roller coaster rides in my personal life as well, but unfortunately, I can't just choose to skip the ride; I'm already on it. This journey I am on has helped mitigate the problems. It has provided a great outlet for stress as well as a needed distraction at times. Unfortunately, every roller coaster has those drops that all you can do is hang on tightly while you race towards the next valley. When I'm hanging on, it's a bit harder to write, and it is mostly during those times that my writing slows down.

This last month I've definitely been in a free fall; I've been challenged both physically and mentally. I've been fighting Bronchitis for over a month and have seriously struggled to find the right balance between pushing myself and allowing myself to rest and recuperate. I've had good days and bad days, productive days and unproductive ones, successes and failures. One thing that has become clear to me though is that on this personal quest there will be no finish line marking the end of my journey, no trumpets or prizes announcing my win, no holy grail waiting for me at the end. I'm not going to wake up one day to suddenly discover that I am that super fit girl on the cover of Self magazine and be able to pronounce an end to my journey. It has to be a journey for life. It is going to be an ongoing process with ups and downs, highs and lows and things that make me feel uncomfortable, but this is one roller coaster ride I won't be walking away from. I simply can't afford to.

Shake, Rattle and Roll



Famous DC Earthquake Devastation



Last night I woke at 1 AM to another aftershock. Still slightly disconcerting , but certainly not nearly as startling, unexpected or thought provoking as the first event. I have a brother on the west coast who teased my daughter for her "over-reaction".  Frankly, many west coasters who deal with tremors and shakes on a regular basis have weighed in on the stir that the event caused. There is even quite the comical picture circling the Internet circuit highlighting the "massive DC destruction!" As I circled the building yesterday on one of my daily exercise breaks, I thought back over the previous day's events, and decided  I wasn't ashamed of the way I reacted or even the way any of my fellow east coasters had reacted. The west coasters simply had it wrong.

The truth was when I first felt the ground move and my building started to shake, my first thought was that they had fired off a particularly large round of artillery at the nearby Quantico Marine  Base, but as the building shook more violently, my second thought was, a plane has gone down somewhere or something very large has exploded. You see, I like many of the people on the east coast still have a vivid memory of the day that everything changed. The day that started out like any other day, but ended in death and destruction. A day where we couldn't get phone calls in or out, where there was no communication, and it seemed as if the whole world were under attack and particularly our city. A day where I broke down sobbing when my husband finally walked through the door after walking, bicycling and hitchhiking his way home from the pentagon, a little disheveled, but safe, and a day where I began mourning for the ones who never did make it home.

For those of who had a personal connection to 911, we knew that the worst sometimes happened and, so as we slowly came to the conclusion that what we had just felt was an earthquake, we didn't immediately think, all is well, because we knew that bad things happened, and people didn't always make it home. We tried calling our loved ones, but in the absence of communication, we watched the news, and we waited. We waited to hear that the worst hadn't happened this time, and we waited before we breathed our sigh of relief. We tweeted to the world out fears and concerns, because it was our only way to shake the eerie Deja vu.

Now that it is over, we can joke amongst ourselves, and with the rest of the world, but somewhere deep within, we are all still thankful we dodged another bullet.

Painting my Weekend Wonderful....

It has taken me almost three weeks, but I have finally beaten back my bronchitis, and am feeling human again! It has been incredibly frustrating along the way. I find I am not as good a patient anymore as I used to be. A day or two of downtime is about all I have the patience for any longer, so being forced into longer periods of inactivity has resulted in a very cranky girl! You need only ask my husband who has had to put up with the brunt of my displeasure.

I spent most of last week using every ounce of energy to simply get through work each day. I'd have one good day to be followed by two bad days. I ignored my inner voice Friday and went out for dinner with with friends. It was a fun evening, but I paid for the late night the next day and had to divert from our original plan to explore mountain homes in Bryce. I knew that I needed to continue to lay low, but by Saturday afternoon, I was TIRED of riding the couch. I decided I had to do something or go crazy. I suddenly found myself volunteering to help my husband with his latest home improvement project....staining the deck. My husband looked a little stunned when I made the offer, not just because I generally leave the home improvement projects to him, but he knew I was feeling poorly, and that almost always involved a couch and a TV. He looked about ready to protest, but I pointed out that I could sit and paint as easily as I could sit and watch TV. If I felt bad, I would stop.

For those of you who don't know my history, I had an uncontrollable cough for a year and a half. While I know this is hard to envision, it actually caused a broken rib, resulted in a hospitalization for exhaustion and while the doctors struggled to determine the cause and cure, left me bedridden for months. Ultimately I was able to have surgery to correct the underlying problem and regain my life, but damage was done to my lungs and vocal chords during that period. I am much more prone to get bronchitis and it can be very challenging to treat both the bronchitis and resulting cough once it starts. For most people a cough is an annoyance, for me a cough is a harbinger of everything bad, and is something to be treated with much care and concern. 

Painting, however, proved to be the prescription I needed this past weekend. I worked for small periods both Saturday and Sunday staying outside long enough to feel like I made a difference, but not long enough to wear myself out. It provided a much needed distraction from my circumstances. Other than finding myself covered in paint spatter from tip to toe (apparently I am a little challenged with a roller) it caused no ill effects. I woke Monday morning with a slight ache in my thighs from squatting and a little stiff from leaning over to get the back of each day, but with definite improvement. It was the first time in weeks, I woke feeling like I could start working out again. I would be smart and start slow, but I was back in business and back on my journey. 

A Pity Party

I felt the first rumblings of a summer cold the Friday before last. I laid low through Monday, but on Tuesday I felt well enough to get back to the gym. I hit the treadmill for a full hour, but decided not to push things by hitting the weights. I awoke Wednesday morning feeling as good as I felt all week. I was on the mend! A few hours later, however, I began to feel a tightness in my chest, and a cough followed soon after. By Friday I was on antibiotics for Bronchitis and a Sinus Infection, and I spent my whole weekend riding the couch.

It was the first time in a long time where I felt zero urge to get up and move. I didn't even feel guilty on Saturday when the most productive thing I did all day was take a shower. I knew my body needed rest. Sunday showed small signs of improvement. I made myself get dressed and went on two small outings, one to the store, and one to the movies. I was sure by Monday, my antibiotics would have stemmed the tide and would wake up sans cough with a renewed sense of energy, but Monday morning came, and I woke feeling almost as bad as I did before I started my medicine. As I readied myself for work, the pity party began. Why did my colds turn into Bronchitis? Why wasn't my healthy kick paying off? Shouldn't I at least be rebounding quicker after all the hard work I had put in? And then my husband reminded me that before I started my healthy kick, I would get struck down with bronchitis at least once a quarter. It had been six months since I kicked off my journey and this was the first time that I had needed to go on antibiotics.

So today instead of continuing the pity party, I decided to count my blessings. I might not be feeling great today, but the first seven months of 2011 were spent feeling far better than the previous year. My bronchitis would get better, I would get back to my routine and I could look forward to longer and longer periods of good health thanks to a little hard work and a village of friends who have pushed me along the way.

A Time For Reflection

It was drizzling outside yesterday morning, so I decided to take a hula-a-hoop break instead of a walk. I've become fairly proficient with my hoop now and can keep it circling fairly mindlessly, so I often find that to be a good time for quiet reflection. My mood was much like the weather, overcast. I was feeling the pain of my friend's grief at the loss of her beloved dog, anticipating having to say goodbye again to another one of my BFFs and struggling to quell the anxiety I was feeling about my youngest daughter's return to Florida.
My usual go to remedy for stress relief has been a trip to the gym, but yesterday morning, while the workout was solid, it didn't tamp down the rage of emotions inside. Perhaps if I could just keep the hula hoop spinning I could  release the endorphins, calm the mind and allow the sunshine to peak back through. So I hooped and hooped some more, and then I set to writing.

The truth is there are certain feelings you have to work through, not just work-out through. Like most of us I suspect, I would rather push aside the uncomfortable feelings, for the comfortable ones, but I've started to realize it is sometimes important to allow myself the time to feel sad or mad, anxious or fearful. My friend needed to grieve for her beloved Milo. I needed to allow myself a few moments to mourn my BFF's' departure, and I needed time to process my concerns about my daughter and where they were stemming from. I couldn't run the problems away, but running could still provide the time to reflect and some momentary solace.

What is the right "right answer" ?

So it's been a week since I posted last. The good news is things have been going great. For once my lack of postings is not reflective of a lapse in effort, a loss of focus or increased stress levels. Truthfully, I think the opposite holds true this time. I've had a great week of work outs, an awesome weekend with my daughters, and many fun empty nesting moments with my husband in between visitors. For once, my lack of voice is not from trying to hold things in, but instead a by-product of  contentment mixed with distraction, but this time, distraction in the form of fun.

If I've struggled at all this week, it has been trying to stay on track making healthier eating choices. My physical fitness routine has been fairly consistent, but making the healthiest eating choices has been a one day at a time kind of struggle or perhaps it has been a one meal at a time kind of struggle. Part of the issue is that over the past few weeks my stomach has decided to take a slight turn to the south, so not everything is agreeing with it in the same way. What I have realized is that when my choices are more limited, I tend to seek comfort foods, and typically those don't fall into the healthiest categories. The other part of the issue is I had slid back into a not so great routine of allowing myself to get caught up in my morning and skipping breakfast. It really is true what they say, skipping the morning meal definitely contributes to a downhill slide throughout the day.

So a few days ago, as I was heading to work yet again without having managed to fit in breakfast, I had an "aha" moment and decided I needed to break the pattern.  Instead of continuing on to the office and foregoing the meal as I had been doing, I headed to the 7-11 and searched for something to start the day with. I had read several articles recently that all reiterated how important it was to start your day with a healthy does of protein, so instead of going for the chocolate covered Krispy Kreme donut, I picked up a protein bar. The surprising thing was that I only had one protein bar, but when my co -worker asked about lunch a few hours later, I realized I wasn't the one watching the clock waiting to dash out the door for the nearest restaurant. This was certainly atypical. The remainder of the day went very well, and I even found I wasn't tempted by the candy bowl.

I don't know that I'll manage to eat protein bars every day...can't say they are my favorite snack, but I do know that I'll be putting an emphasis on good proteins in the morning going forward. This certainly was a visible demonstration of having read something that really worked. The truth is there is so much conflicting information out there, it is often hard to know what is the right "right answer", so there is a tendency to view all of the information with some skepticism. So I guess moving forward I'll be doing a lot of  trial and error tests. What works? What doesn't? Because there is truly nothing that proves a point better than trying it for yourself.

Getting Older....The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

So last night as I tossed and turned and tossed and turned, it occurred to me that one of the unpleasant things about growing older that doesn't seemed to be rectified by working out is the aches and pains of laying in one position for too long. When I was younger, I could close my eyes, fall asleep right away and wake up in the same position 8 hours later none for the wear. Now I am lucky if I make it three hours before I'm woken by a stiff neck or back, discomfort in my shoulders or knees or cramps in my feet. Intersperse that with random hot flashes, it's really quite amazing that I manage to get any sleep at all.

Fortunately I've learned the fine art of switching sides with one pillow lodged between my knees, while at the same time flipping my head pillow ever so quickly to provide an immediate cooing sensation from the head down. If the movement goes smoothly without getting tangled in my husband's sprawled arms or legs, I can usually settle back to sleep fairly quickly.

Of course the other disconcerting problem that arises as a result of lack of sleep are the big bags and dark circles under the eyes that accompany it. If you think about it, it's a double whammy. Our skin is slowly losing it's elasticity, gravity is working against our body, and we get the added pleasure of trying to combat the ill effects of a restless night's sleep.

But despite the aches and pains, the lack of sleep, gravity taking it's toll and my thermostat no longer working, I have to admit, I wouldn't want to turn back time. If I could combine a twenty year old body with my forty year old experiences it would be the perfect blend, but since that isn't an option, I frankly choose the woman I am today over the woman I was at 20. I know more, I love myself more, and I have a balance in my life that few twenty year olds manage to achieve. Who knows, in ten years I may feel differently, but as I look ahead to my next birthday in the fall, I'm not dreading the date, simply wondering what other great adventures life has to offer between now and then.

One choice at a time...

It's been almost a week since my last posting which is usually a pretty good barometer for how things are going in my life. First I was waylaid with the kink in my neck, but managed to get back to the gym for one day, only to be waylaid by my stomach. Whether it was my post surgical stomach rearing it's ugly head or a strange bout of food poisoning, it knocked me out of whack for several more days. Fortunately, my body started cooperating just in time to make a trip to our friend's retirement ceremony in Tennessee; unfortunately, I managed to only get in two work-outs prior to our departure, and one small walk while on the trip.

But one thing I've learned these past few months is I don't need to flog myself every time I don't reach my weekly goal or worry that I'm on a downward spiral; I just need to continue to try to put forward the best effort I can. So Sunday when we returned from our trip, instead of vegging out at the house like my body wanted to do after a night of little sleep, I took Chuck up on his invitation to shoot some golf. While not a stunning start to my week, since we opted to use a cart, it still kept me moving.

Monday, I made it back to the gym and hit the treadmill.  The TV show I had plugged in wasn't holding my attention, so instead of watching the clock, I shifted my thoughts to the past weekend. It had felt  great to be able to help honor our friend's service by sharing in his retirement ceremony. We met many nice folks, but one of the people who stood out the most was our friend's 83 year old mother.  She was a military wife and mother who raised a family of six and was clearly still very much a matriarch in her own right. Her house was adorned with beautiful pieces of pottery she had crafted; her yard house was adorned with beautiful flowers from the garden she tended and her home came complete with it's very own lap pool, so she could swim regularly. When I asked her about her swimming, she revealed that she struggled with neuropathy which caused her significant pain, and swimming helped combat her symptoms. She went on to say that swimming wasn't something she wanted to do, but it was something she had to do. As I contemplated her words, I thought to myself, she wasn't giving herself enough credit. She really didn't have to do anything; no one was standing over her with a poker making her swim laps. She was making a choice to take care of herself, and she continued to make that choice each day despite the pain, despite her age, despite her distaste for it.  I was impressed by her commitment and drive.

It occurred to me that my road to a healthier lifestyle wasn't about the big moments, but about the daily decisions. It was about making one choice at a time. It was about getting up in the morning and making a choice to swim your laps that day even though you didn't want to. It was about choosing to play a game of golf instead of watching a movie. It was about choosing to eat a yogurt parfait for breakfast instead of a slice of cheesecake (I confess I almost caved Sunday Morning at the airport, but had my conscious (Chuck) at my side).  I have a lifetime of choices ahead of me, and while I expect, I won't make the right decisions all of the time; hopefully with my village behind me, I'll make the best choices for my health and well being most of the time.

Movies, Massages and Allowing Myself to be a Little Bit Selfish!

I woke up Tuesday morning, leaned over to stretch and felt a sharp pain run down the left side of my neck into my shoulder. Ugg! What the heck was that? I moved around a little more and realized that I was unable to move my head to my left side without causing that same sharp pain. Either I had slept in a funny position or the stress I had been feeling the past few days was catching up with me. 

As the day wore on, I tried tylenol, my massage chair and finally a heating pad to loosen the muscles and relieve the twinges. Things started to improve, but I knew there was no way I'd make it to the gym that night. So when I headed home after work, I decided if I couldn't burn off my stress in the gym, I would try the next best thing. I scooped up my hubby, and we headed to the movies. It was time for a mental health break! 

The movie provided a nice respite from any real drama, and despite having to step away for a short bit to manage a work issue, it proved to be just what I needed to end the day on a high note. Truthfully, who could walk away from a movie with Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts and not leave feeling good about life! When I awoke this morning, it appeared that my efforts from the day before had paid off. The spasm in my neck had eased, and I only felt a slight twinge.  

As the morning wore on, however, the pain started returning.  If I wanted to get back to the gym, I knew I needed to try something different. After wrestling with the idea in my head for a little bit, I called and set up an appointment for a massage. Somehow, despite knowing the therapeutic benefit, I still felt a little guilty spending money on a massage. I am sure other Mothers can identify with my feelings. We've spent years foregoing extras for ourselves in an effort to give those extras to our children. The idea of spending money on something that only benefits us personally invokes feelings of both extravagance and selfishness. I had finally gotten to a place where I didn't feel guilty spending money on manicures and pedicures, but I hadn't quite reached that place with a massage yet. I still only allowed myself the luxury when something was hurting. 

This time the twinge in my neck, trumped my twinge of guilt, and I allowed myself to be a little bit selfish. There was never a question that the massage would improve the situation. Despite the pain induced by the masseuse as she kneaded and worked the knots, I left feeling much better than I went in. I had washed away the last bit of a stressful week, and was ready for a long walk to round out the day. Perhaps it was OK to be a little selfish once in awhile. Who knew, maybe I'd even start allowing myself to be a little selfish on a more regular basis. 

The Teacher's Pet....

I've managed to work out three times with my husband this week which was a pleasant surprise. Typically his work/travel schedule precludes too many opportunities for joint work-out sessions, but with co-workers and clients vacationing, his schedule has been a little more flexible of late. The nice thing about working out with him is the work-out always seems to go by faster, because I'm entertained. The tough thing about working out with him is we are at very different fitness levels, so I typically feel like I'm holding him back.

He, more than anyone, has taken on the role of my trainer for this journey, wisely letting me set my own path, yet still pushing me when he thought I needed a nudge. So it came as a bit of surprise this week when I actually managed to outlast him for the first time in one of our exercise routines, and of all activities, I managed to outlast him while doing Ab crunches. It was a very small victory in the realm of things, but for a girl who struggled to complete four sets of twenty crunches when she first started this journey, it still made me feel like I had accomplished something very significant.

Truth be told, I'm sure if we went head to head in a competition, he would clearly out crunch me. He would will his way through the exercises, but on this day he was already worn out from a five mile run just prior to our work-out, so he wasn't pushing as hard as he normally would. Even so his surprised reaction at my increased abilities, and the pause he had to take while I kept going was enough to fuel my future efforts. I guess the truth is every student wants to impress their teacher no matter what age they reach. I know I'll always be this"Teacher's Pet", but it's always rewarding to feel I've exceeded expectations.

A Long Walk Pondering Casey Anthony and How the Justice System got it both wrong and right..

I think the world collectively gasped yesterday when the Casey Anthony verdict was read. So as my husband and I started out on a walk together last night, it is no surprise that the subject dominated the majority of our conversation for the length of time it took us to traverse five miles.

The truth is there are probably very few people who followed the trial who are going to walk away from this believing that Casey Anthony is innocent....but the big question still hanging in the air is "What is she guilty of?" I can tell you that I was certain the jury would convict her of something beyond the charges she was ultimately convicted of, and I felt a little sick when I heard the court reporter read the "Not Guilty" decree. I agreed one hundred percent with the coroner's belief...If a child ends up in a garbage bag with tape over it's mouth abandoned in the woods, then it is clearly a homicide. I wanted the jury to make the connection that Casey was the last one known to have seen her, that Casey told no one for thirty one days about the disappearance, and that Casey continued to lie and interfere with the investigation once the child was discovered missing. Clearly she was the culprit even if we didn't know exactly what happened.

As my husband and I discussed the day's events, I had to admit that I never bought the prosecution's theory that Casey Anthony woke up one day and decided to smother her child by applying chloroform and taping her mouth and nose closed.  Truthfully I speculated that Casey was using chloroform as her "Nanny" and on the day Caylee died used too much. I speculated that the tape was either to keep the child quiet if she happened to wake prior to her Mom's return or a ploy on Casey's part to make it appear the child was kidnapped after she realized Casey had passed away and she needed to formulate a plan to cover it up.

And clearly that was the problem. I hadn't believed the scenario that the prosecution was presenting; it was probable the jury didn't either, but unlike me, they didn't have the latitude to speculate. They are charged to work with the facts presented. They can't presume to know what happened unless the assumption can be made beyond a reasonable doubt.  In this case there was little direct evidence showing that Casey had ever acted in a way that suggested she wanted to rid herself of a child prior to the disappearance even if she frolicked and seemed to celebrate later. There was no direct evidence that placed Casey at the computer doing those well known searches on chloroform; only the suggestion that she was the only one in the home to have motive to do such a search. More importantly, there was no direct evidence to support exactly how the child died, no drugs detected, no broken bones, no indication of anything that would imply any previous abuse. Only our common sense in respect to Casey's actions for those 31 days tells us Caylee's death was not by natural means and Casey had something to do with it.

When the dust settles and the emotions ebb, I believe we will look back and say that their were multiple mistakes along the way that lost the conviction. The policeman who failed to thoroughly search the area the first time the remains were reported allowing further damage to the evidence. The prosecution who fueled by the public's outrage pursued a charge that most pundits agreed was out of reach while potentially discarding other strategies that would have allowed the jury to focus instead on a lesser charge. The introduction of the video of Caylee with tape over her mouth which was designed to inflame but potentially created more doubt than conviction.

In the end, I believe we can almost all agree that the justice system failed Caylee, but after walking five miles and pondering the issues, I wasn't as convinced any longer that the failure fell with the twelve individuals who made the final call. They were truly the only people who had an unobstructed view of the evidence sans pundits, opinion and preconceived notions. When and if the day arrives that the jurors eventually reveal the drivers behind their decisions, I believe that they will tell us that they did not buy the idea that Caylee drowned in a pool or even that they believed Casey Anthony was innocent of harming her daughter, but I do believe they will tell us they did not have enough direct evidence presented by the prosecution to exceed reasonable doubt to the charges at hand. They are bound to be haunted for a long time to come by the things they heard in the courtroom, the things they will now learn and the what ifs, but after a day's reflection I am not sure they deserve the added pressure of a country of backseat jurors second guessing their decisions.

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah...oh what a weekend!

The weekend is over and it's back to the real world. Work, dropping cars off for service, paying bills, pausing to watch Casey Anthony declared not-guilty (that's  a whole other blog) and finding a moment to write and reflect on an awesome weekend. We spent most of our time with good friends at their timeshare in Massanutten. I'd love to tell you that the weekend was a an exercise in healthy adventures, but truthfully I binged on Caramel creams, goldfish, and beef while only managing to fit in one bonafide trip to the gym upon my return. The trip wasn't a complete exercise in slothfulness: however, as I managed to test my dexterity and new adventurous spirit, zip lining down the side of a ski slope.

If I am completely honest, I have to confess that if I had known exactly what I was signing on for when I committed to the activity,  I would have said "No" instead of "Yes". I would love to claim that I agreed to go as a bold effort to face my fears, but the truth was when our friend called a few days before our trip to ask if we would be interested in joining them in a morning of zip lining, my only experience to that point was watching people zip line across a lake at a fairly low height. It sounded like a relatively benign fun out-door activity to me. I had no idea that it would test my immense fear of heights.

My first indicator that this would not be the relaxed adventure I had envisioned came in a posting from my friend who tried it a few days before we arrived. The words "varying heights" and "dangling" jumped out at me and from that point on I began to feel anxiety. My initial thoughts were that I would bow out and let the others go. I am not a thrill seeker and don't enjoy scaring myself for fun, but when I found out the tickets were already paid for and that they were non-refundable, I felt guilty backing out. So I convinced myself it couldn't possibly be so bad.

The morning arrived for our jump and I found myself dragging my feet behind the rest of the group. I had a big knot in my stomach as we pulled up to the location for our departure. As I scanned the side of the mountain my anxiety increased two fold. We were fitted with our equipment fairly quickly, and we headed to an escalator to the area where we would get our first lesson. On the way up we passed an elevated platform some hundred feet from the ground. We were casually told that would be our final destination, and we would have to step off the side and be lowered to the ground to finish the tour. Once you started the course, the only way back to the beginning was to finish the course. I almost turned around right at that spot, but for some reason the idea I would disappoint my friends somehow for failing to follow through kept me moving ahead, but my mood was quickly heading south.

We reached the top and were given our instructions which only proved to make me more nervous. Don't grab here, you might accidentally unclasp the hook you are hanging form; do be sure to lift your legs, so you don't bang the ramps; don't grab the metal wire to stabilize yourself on the pole or you might get your fingers crushed; break with an open hand, don't close your fist. There were clearly too many things for a nervous, klutzy person like me to remember. I was going to be the person who got stuck in the middle of a line hanging hundreds of feet above the ground who needed to be rescued.

We climbed a rope ladder to the first platform. As I looked ahead, I thought to myself that the first leg didn't look too bad. I could handle it. The platform was wobbly and I was not enjoying the instability created as each person took their turn, but I thought to myself, if all of the legs are like this first one, I won't need someone to push me off the platform to get me to keep going. It was my turn to go, and I grabbed hold of the lines being sure not to grab the hook that would unclasp and jumped off the platform. "Zoom" I reached the other side, slowly pulled up my legs and even managed to land gracefully. I could do this and might even enjoy it. The actual ride was fun! I felt momentarily relieved until I shared my feelings with the guide, and he quickly doused my contentment with the words, "Well, the rule is longer, higher, faster with each leg." That was about the time I caught sight of the next leg. He was right, longer, faster, but more importantly higher.

I made myself one with the center pole and proceeded to try and calm myself once again. One leg down, three to go, I just wouldn't look down or across. Instead I scanned the valley and tried to soak up the beauty while I recited the rules in my had lest I forget them on the next ride across. Don't grab the main hook, break with an open hand, lift up your knees at the end. I made it through the next leg and felt a little calmer. By the third leg, I realized, the actual act of zip lining was fun, but standing on the platform far above land while it swayed back and forth in reaction to the varying weights moving along the line was still terrifying. This was not something I was going to get used to.

By the time my two feet were planted again on the ground, I decided that zip lining held a certain appeal, but was probably not high on my repeat performances again unless over water or lower to the ground. I was really happy I had continued through the course. I felt a certain sense of accomplishment at the end for having faced my fears no matter how reluctantly, but mostly I was just really thankful that I didn't fall into a blubbering mass of panic along the way.

An Early Morning

My husband was a little noisier than usual this morning when he left the house around 530 AM. It was just enough extra activity to roust me from my slumber, and I laid in bed thinking to myself it was way too early to get moving. If I closed my eyes, I should have a least another hour of sleep ahead of me. I tried to doze off again, but just as I was about to drift away, I had a flash. Chuck and I had made plans to meet friends for dinner downtown. There would be no time to fit in a work-out after work. I actually needed to get up and get moving if I wanted to fit one in today.

I continued laying there as I struggled with the inner debate...sleep a little longer...stick to my goals...sleep a little longer...stick to my goals. I peeled back the blankets and sat up. There really was no going back to sleep at this point anyway, my guilt would see to that! I slowly got up, pulled on my work-out clothes and headed out the door to my car. It was going to be a gym day.

I drove into the parking lot and looked around. There were a few cars over by the bloom, but not a single one in front of the gym. I had never been to the gym this early before, so I hadn't known what to expect. Apparently there were plenty of people like me who avoided work-outs first thing in the morning. When I entered the gym, it was completely empty and I was the only one there.

I have to admit, while I had often thought I would enjoy the freedom of working out in a  gym without any eyes surveying my progress, a completely empty gym was slightly unnerving. What happened if I suddenly keeled over from a heart attack or perhaps pulled a klutzy moment, fell off the treadmill and broke my leg? Farfetched perhaps, but still....I put my things away and headed to the treadmill. Just as I was hopping on, I heard the sound of the door opening and another patron entering. God must have been a little concerned too.

It turned out that I was just ahead of the morning crowd. By the time I finished my morning run, the gym was bustling with activity and any unease had given way to a sense of accomplishment for not only making it to the gym that morning, but managing to run yet a little farther than the time before. Turned out working out early in the morning wasn't so bad even though I didn't honestly think I would be making it a habit!

Communing with Nature

I said goodbye to my friend this morning and watched her drive off to Huntsville AL to start the next phase of her life. I was going to miss her, but I knew we still had more adventures ahead of us. So instead of letting it ruin my day, I wiped the tears away and headed to the shower to get ready for work. One goodbye down, one more to go. 

I followed with a productive day at work, and when I got home decided that nature was calling me. It wasn't too hot, there was a slight breeze in the air and the sky was a vivid blue. It was definitely an outdoor day. I had learned my lesson from previous walks this summer, however, so before heading out, I chugged a bottle of water. I did not want to get to the other side of the neighborhood only to discover it was hotter than I imagined it to be and find myself struggling to get home, because I was dehydrated. 

I headed out the door and turned to the left. I found I liked to alternate departure routes to keep the walks more interesting. Now that I was walking fairly regularly outside, the enjoyment of seeing the neighborhood children at play, manicured lawns or blossoming bushes wasn't quite as interesting as it had been after months of winter hibernation, but I still found it more interesting than the scenery that a treadmill provided. 

I pushed myself to walk at a pace just below a jog. I was trying to work up to running outside, but knew I wasn't quite there yet. The treadmill provided a soft landing, and I knew sidewalks and roads would provide another level of difficulty I had to work up to. I wound up and down the neighborhood streets and ended up on the backside of the neighborhood. I decided to head off the main roads and hit the walking path that edged the forest. 

I had only gone just a slight way when I realized that the bottle of water I had chugged had managed to make it all the way through me. I was going to have to slow my pace just a little for fear of "leakage". What to do? I was a long way from the house and wasn't particularly close to any of my friends houses. As I pondered my situation I had a vision of my husband telling me multiple times about instances where he had to pull off into the woods midway through a run to relieve himself. Somehow I never imagined I would be in that predicament. In fact, I was fairly sure I had even thought those exact words to myself many times as he relayed his stories; yet here I was actually considering the possibility of communing with nature in a way that I had not imagined when I left the house thirty minutes earlier. 

I considered how far it was to my nearest friend's house, and thought for at least another few steps that I might be able to make it there. Finally the urge was just too great; nature was calling and so was the nearest bush. As I headed home, I thought to myself that apparently there still were some firsts waiting to surprise me on this journey after all.  I'm just not quite sure ducking behind a bush was the kind of first I would count as a milestone. 

Family Traditions

My husband and I took a ride out to Front Royal yesterday to look at properties. We are contemplating getting a place in the mountains as a get-away retreat, a place to gather family and friends and a place to carry on family traditions. My husband grew up spending family vacations at his Aunt and Uncle's cabin in the mountains. It was a place he equated with outdoor adventures, childhood memories and large family gatherings. When we were dating, he spoke of it often, so when he invited me to join him there for my first Christmas, I knew it held a special significance. We were engaged by the end of the trip.

After Chuck's father passed away unexpectedly a few years after we were married, the whole family reunited at the cabin for our first Christmas with out him. It was also Charlie's first Christmas and she spent it nestled in a blanket drawer each night in place of a crib. When Chuck was deployed to Korea several years later, I moved into the cabin and raised my family there free from the pressures of a traditional home near an army installation. Over the years, the cabin provided an inexpensive vacation destination, a family gathering point, a home and a haven. But as everyone's lives got busier, and the trips to the cabin became fewer and fewer, it fell into disrepair, and the family began contemplating letting it go. It was our turn now to find our "cabin in the mountains" with the hope that it would some day provide the same kind of gathering point for our children and their families that the cabin had provided for us over the years.

We spent a better part of the day visiting different properties and trying to get a sense of what areas we would be most interested in. There was way too much to look at, and by the time we got back to the house,  my head was spinning with property listings. The truth was I was still a little sad at the thought of losing the cabin. It was filled with memories. We even considered the possibility of purchasing it for ourselves, but realistically we knew the to-do list was too long. We had toyed with the option of taking down the old and rebuilding something new, but if we took the emotions out of the decision, and made it from a strictly fiscal standpoint, the more sensible decision was to move on and find something new. I decided that the perfect way to slow my mind down would be a trip to the gym. I generally didn't like to work-out on Sundays, but it seemed like it could serve two purposes; not only would it be a great way to start my fitness week out on the right foot, but it would allow my thoughts to settle.

It was an elliptical day, so I tried to zone out by plugging into the TV. It worked for awhile, but my mind continued to wander. At some point towards the end of my routine, one of my daughter's friends came in with his Dad to work out. They were regulars at the gym, and I ran into them often. They had their own family tradition. They worked out together, and you could see that it was something that was rewarding to both of them. It occurred to me as I watched them together that I wished I had figured out how to lead this healthier lifestyle when I was much younger, so I could have passed it along to my children before they had developed their own bad habits.  It would have been great to work-out with my daughters, but it would be greater to know that they would face fewer of the health challenges that I have faced, because they were healthier individuals to begin with.

As I left the gym and headed home, it occurred to me it was never too late to start a new family tradition. After all I was my youngest daughter's age when I went to the cabin for the first time and nearly thirty years later it had left such an impression that I was looking for my own cabin in the woods. I might not be in a position to work out regularly with my daughters any more, but perhaps this cabin would not only be a place to gather friends and family for holidays and vacations, but it could also be a place to share long walks in the woods and Bare Naked Granola for breakfast too.