So...I was off yesterday and sometime in the afternoon decided I would check Facebook. Pictures from the Big Oak Run Saturday were posted so I took a look and here's the thing...I look even worse than I did in my before pictures that I posted on this blog in January. It was quite the wake up call. I'd had a couple of compliments about weight loss earlier in the week, my pants seemed to be a little looser, I was feeling pretty good about myself, then WHAM! Reality check!
Chin rolls in some photo's, belly rolls in others and the occasional pic featuring both.
So what happened next? Well I immediately went straight to the kitchen to see what I could eat. How counterproductive is that? Fortunately since I have been trying to eat better all I could find was a piece of reduced fat cheese, some hummus and carrot chips and vanilla light soy milk, when what I really wanted was to have some quality time with my two best guys, Ben and Jerry.
Why is change so slow to come? What happened in a matter of weeks in my 20's seems to be so agonizingly slooooowww in my 40's! Especially when I've been working so hard. I work out almost every day! My rear end is sore constantly, so much that it almost seems normal. If I'm not hungry every night, I could at least have a little something, if you know what I'm saying, but I don't want to eat my results. According to the weight loss experts, 1 - 2 pounds a week is not only normal, but optimal, and on an intellectual level I know this. It's just discouraging without results that can be seen.
Well, I suppose that's enough whining for now. There are only two choices at this point, keep at it or quit. I don't want to quit (been there, done that). I guess we'll see what I'm made of. Until then...
Stay Healthy,
Tami
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
All rain, no shine...
Unless you count my sweaty forehead! That's right, this morning I did the Big Oak Run/Walk 5K in weather that was, shall we say, less than spectacular. We've kept an eye on the weather forecast all week, it wasn't great. I've received e-mails from race director, April Brass, reiterating the weather policy for the event: RAIN OR SHINE, cancellation for tornado WARNINGS or lightning ONLY.
All week I've been taking an informal poll of friends, co-workers and fellow Fit for Lifers about their participation in the 5K. They all answered, "Oh yeah, I'm there, well...if it's not raining". But I knew I could count on my faithful sidekick, Brandy. I was dreading it 'cuz I knew it was going to be torrential rain or tornadoes or something, but she was gung ho encouragement, we were there no matter what! We ARE Fit for Life!
So the day before, while filming the next GPL FFL show, Brandy nearly breaks her ankle. She showed up ready to walk (limp) the event. We talked her out of it (it's not worth risking an injury that would sideline her), but she did do one loop. So...it was me and Nicole in all her skull legging, black and white striped sock glory, trying to stay to the right without falling in the culvert full of rushing water.
We set a goal of a 4 MPH pace and were able to do it and had a great time while helping the Big Oak Ranch. Brandy's a champ and signed up some new Fit for Lifers and the three of us will be training together to walk another 5K in a month or so and will try to maintain an even faster pace.
I'll keep you posted and hope you'll consider training for an event at whatever pace feels right for you. Just remember - we're doing it RAIN OR SHINE!
Stay healthy,
Tami
All week I've been taking an informal poll of friends, co-workers and fellow Fit for Lifers about their participation in the 5K. They all answered, "Oh yeah, I'm there, well...if it's not raining". But I knew I could count on my faithful sidekick, Brandy. I was dreading it 'cuz I knew it was going to be torrential rain or tornadoes or something, but she was gung ho encouragement, we were there no matter what! We ARE Fit for Life!
So the day before, while filming the next GPL FFL show, Brandy nearly breaks her ankle. She showed up ready to walk (limp) the event. We talked her out of it (it's not worth risking an injury that would sideline her), but she did do one loop. So...it was me and Nicole in all her skull legging, black and white striped sock glory, trying to stay to the right without falling in the culvert full of rushing water.
We set a goal of a 4 MPH pace and were able to do it and had a great time while helping the Big Oak Ranch. Brandy's a champ and signed up some new Fit for Lifers and the three of us will be training together to walk another 5K in a month or so and will try to maintain an even faster pace.
I'll keep you posted and hope you'll consider training for an event at whatever pace feels right for you. Just remember - we're doing it RAIN OR SHINE!
Stay healthy,
Tami
Friday, March 13, 2009
I am the Biggest Loser...
If you've been paying attention to my e-mails you'll know that Biggest Loser contestant, Roger Shultz, was our Fit for Life guest speaker last Tuesday. We (library director, Amanda Jackson, and I) had dinner with Roger before the program - where he gave us tips on making healthy choices while eating out in a rather firm, direct manner - sent the waiter packing when he came with the lovely basket of fresh yeast rolls - intervened when Amanda attempted to put ketchup on her cheeseburger that had no cheese and only half a bun (don't even ask about the fries!) - demanded his mushrooms be sauteed in balsamic vinegar not butter and essentially scared the crap out of our waiter. But he was really nice and funny.
We came back to the library and Roger was talking to folks as they came into the Lena Martin room, at one point he looks at us and says, "Hey, where's the gym? Let's go for a workout after this!" Well, now how many chances do you get to do that? Amanda had workout clothes in her office in case we went walking on break and I decided I could go to Wal-Mart to get some appropriate attire.
The program ends (it was great!) and I meet Roger and Amanda in front of the city gym dressed in the world's worst workout pants ever (clearance rack $6.00), a horizontal striped shirt with a photo of Bob Harper's head and the slogan "What would Bob do?" on it (literally straight off of Roger's back) and some lime green striped men's athletic knock-off shocks from Wal-Mart! We're all smiling, joking and laughing as we each jump on a treadmill at 3.6 mph. So far, so good. But wait a minute! Roger dismounts his mill and heads off to the weight stacks and when he comes back comedy turns to drama in a heartbeat!
He hands us each a couple of free weights that we press, curl and just hold straight up in the air (all while walking at 3.6 mph) 'cuz this is the easy part. After two minutes we put them down and crank it up to 6.5 mph to run for minute, then back to the two minute rest (using the term loosely) then to 7 mph for a minute. Well, you see the pattern forming. So...after some intervals, I begin to feel my chest close up - I'm supposed to use my inhaler approx. 1/2 hour prior to working out - I hop off the mill only to have the funny, nice Roger scream at me. I explain that I need my inhaler and he says I have 30 seconds to get it and get back. So now I'm throwing stuff out of my gigantic purse, searching for the thing in a near panic! I hear "15 SECONDS!", take a puff, can't hold it in since I'm panting like a dog and hop back on the mill.
At some point, Roger moves me to the stepmill, I'm sure this is because I'm about one interval away from a full blown asthma attack. Frankly, I'm now thinking that wouldn't be too bad, the city gym is used mostly by firefighters and police, so odds are good that there's an EMT in the bunch or at least someone CPR certified. So now I'm climbing away on the stepmill (aka - the stairway to hell), and Amanda is running with a look of fierce determination usually reserved for people lifting cars off of trapped children! At last, thirty minutes is over, I've climbed the equivalent of the Empire State Building, we gingerly step/slide off of our respective torture devices, trying not to to slip in the huge puddles of sweat pooling at our feet. Done, at last, NOT!
Now we're off to weight training and plyometric drills. I've not felt such intensity since giving birth to a ten pound child with no pain medication. I'm reduced to near tears while Roger is screaming "One more!" and I'm whining "I can't!". I have now become one of the people I've seen on the program. The ones that whine and cry and you think "Just suck it up and do one more!".
I squat down to sit on an upended 50 pound weight then spring up, jump and return to the starting position only to hear him yell, "25 more!". I...can't...do...it!!! Roger then says if I don't, Amanda has to. She looks at me with panic in her eyes and says "DO IT! WHAT WOULD BOB DO?". I feel bad and then realize that she is 15 years younger than me, making me old enough to be her ABC Afterschool Special mother. I remain seated. Panic turns to loathing and she says she hates me. We are both reduced to sniveling brats. Roger is still berating us. At some point it becomes easier to do what he says than resist and at least there's a slim chance that he will shut up if we succumb.
Finally it's over! Roger says this is just like a workout people on the ranch get except they go for about three hours. I have a whole new respect for the people on that program. I take Roger back to his hotel and when he goes in I think I may hate him. But he was really nice and funny.
We came back to the library and Roger was talking to folks as they came into the Lena Martin room, at one point he looks at us and says, "Hey, where's the gym? Let's go for a workout after this!" Well, now how many chances do you get to do that? Amanda had workout clothes in her office in case we went walking on break and I decided I could go to Wal-Mart to get some appropriate attire.
The program ends (it was great!) and I meet Roger and Amanda in front of the city gym dressed in the world's worst workout pants ever (clearance rack $6.00), a horizontal striped shirt with a photo of Bob Harper's head and the slogan "What would Bob do?" on it (literally straight off of Roger's back) and some lime green striped men's athletic knock-off shocks from Wal-Mart! We're all smiling, joking and laughing as we each jump on a treadmill at 3.6 mph. So far, so good. But wait a minute! Roger dismounts his mill and heads off to the weight stacks and when he comes back comedy turns to drama in a heartbeat!
He hands us each a couple of free weights that we press, curl and just hold straight up in the air (all while walking at 3.6 mph) 'cuz this is the easy part. After two minutes we put them down and crank it up to 6.5 mph to run for minute, then back to the two minute rest (using the term loosely) then to 7 mph for a minute. Well, you see the pattern forming. So...after some intervals, I begin to feel my chest close up - I'm supposed to use my inhaler approx. 1/2 hour prior to working out - I hop off the mill only to have the funny, nice Roger scream at me. I explain that I need my inhaler and he says I have 30 seconds to get it and get back. So now I'm throwing stuff out of my gigantic purse, searching for the thing in a near panic! I hear "15 SECONDS!", take a puff, can't hold it in since I'm panting like a dog and hop back on the mill.
At some point, Roger moves me to the stepmill, I'm sure this is because I'm about one interval away from a full blown asthma attack. Frankly, I'm now thinking that wouldn't be too bad, the city gym is used mostly by firefighters and police, so odds are good that there's an EMT in the bunch or at least someone CPR certified. So now I'm climbing away on the stepmill (aka - the stairway to hell), and Amanda is running with a look of fierce determination usually reserved for people lifting cars off of trapped children! At last, thirty minutes is over, I've climbed the equivalent of the Empire State Building, we gingerly step/slide off of our respective torture devices, trying not to to slip in the huge puddles of sweat pooling at our feet. Done, at last, NOT!
Now we're off to weight training and plyometric drills. I've not felt such intensity since giving birth to a ten pound child with no pain medication. I'm reduced to near tears while Roger is screaming "One more!" and I'm whining "I can't!". I have now become one of the people I've seen on the program. The ones that whine and cry and you think "Just suck it up and do one more!".
I squat down to sit on an upended 50 pound weight then spring up, jump and return to the starting position only to hear him yell, "25 more!". I...can't...do...it!!! Roger then says if I don't, Amanda has to. She looks at me with panic in her eyes and says "DO IT! WHAT WOULD BOB DO?". I feel bad and then realize that she is 15 years younger than me, making me old enough to be her ABC Afterschool Special mother. I remain seated. Panic turns to loathing and she says she hates me. We are both reduced to sniveling brats. Roger is still berating us. At some point it becomes easier to do what he says than resist and at least there's a slim chance that he will shut up if we succumb.
Finally it's over! Roger says this is just like a workout people on the ranch get except they go for about three hours. I have a whole new respect for the people on that program. I take Roger back to his hotel and when he goes in I think I may hate him. But he was really nice and funny.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Did you see the one about.....
Okay, last night I was flicking through the channels looking for something to watch and I came across an old Seinfeld episode. It was towards the end of the program and George discovered an eclair (I think it was an eclair) that someone had thrown away. It was on top of the trash and you could see him thinking hard...he reaches in, grabs it and takes a bite. Of course this is right about the time that the mother of the woman he's trying to impress comes in behind him and is totally horrified. At this point, George tries to explain that it was on top...yada, yada, yada... she runs away and hilarity ensues.
Now, that's really gross and I would never do THAT, but...I do have my own true confession, if you will. One time I was doing a workout DVD (a really hard one - old school FIRM if anyone is familiar with those), 55 minutes in it's time for floor exercises. After what seems like a million donkey kicks - you know the ones where you're on all fours lifting your leg to the back, pulsing it at the top, lifting then performing a hamstring curl, lifting to the side and generally moving your leg in every conceivable direction the instructor (who still seems full of energy and ready for more) instructs me to lie supine (her words, not mine). Well, you don't have to ask me twice to lie on my back and I flip/flop to the supine position.
Once there, we begin an enormous amount of ab work. Crunches, bicycles, oblique twists and God knows what else. Out of the corner of my eye I see something small, round and colorful just under the edge of the couch. I'm not sure, but I think it might be an M & M! And it's green! I twist my neck (into what I'm sure the instructor would deem as a very unsafe position)to get a better look without letting up on the crunches. Up - down, up - down! Now I'm mesmerized! It is, in fact, a green M & M. Should I eat it? No, that would be gross! But there's no one to see. It's just me and this psychopath in a leotard and leg warmers (I told you it was old school). So now I'm crunching and trying to remember when I last vacuumed, cuz I really want to eat it. But I can't. For God's sake, I'm exercising. I remove my hand from the approved behind the head position, reach out, grab and examine it. It looks okay and really, how long could it have been under there? Eat it! Don't eat it! It's now an epic battle and little Ms. Leg Warmer has just decided that we are to lie on our sides to do more leg lifts. I guess the 10,000 lunges, dips and donkey kicks weren't quite enough. I deserve that damn M & M.
I roll to my side, wipe the M & M against the fabric of my shirt, kiss it up to God and throw it in my mouth. All that happens is that I suddenly get a craving for more M & M's and frankly, I feel a little dirty. About this time the instructor says it's time to stretch and the workout is over. If only I could have held out a little longer.
So now I'm feeling kind of bad and I call a friend to inform her of this heinous act. I recount the whole thing in excruciating detail and when I'm done there's dead silence on the other end. Is she repulsed, mortified, thinking about having me committed? I hear her take a breath and begin to speak. "Big deal" she says, "I once ate a Samoa out of the trash can...it was on the top, on a plate. It hadn't touched any real trash and at least you were working out."
Do you have an eating or fitness true confession? Let me know.
Tami
Now, that's really gross and I would never do THAT, but...I do have my own true confession, if you will. One time I was doing a workout DVD (a really hard one - old school FIRM if anyone is familiar with those), 55 minutes in it's time for floor exercises. After what seems like a million donkey kicks - you know the ones where you're on all fours lifting your leg to the back, pulsing it at the top, lifting then performing a hamstring curl, lifting to the side and generally moving your leg in every conceivable direction the instructor (who still seems full of energy and ready for more) instructs me to lie supine (her words, not mine). Well, you don't have to ask me twice to lie on my back and I flip/flop to the supine position.
Once there, we begin an enormous amount of ab work. Crunches, bicycles, oblique twists and God knows what else. Out of the corner of my eye I see something small, round and colorful just under the edge of the couch. I'm not sure, but I think it might be an M & M! And it's green! I twist my neck (into what I'm sure the instructor would deem as a very unsafe position)to get a better look without letting up on the crunches. Up - down, up - down! Now I'm mesmerized! It is, in fact, a green M & M. Should I eat it? No, that would be gross! But there's no one to see. It's just me and this psychopath in a leotard and leg warmers (I told you it was old school). So now I'm crunching and trying to remember when I last vacuumed, cuz I really want to eat it. But I can't. For God's sake, I'm exercising. I remove my hand from the approved behind the head position, reach out, grab and examine it. It looks okay and really, how long could it have been under there? Eat it! Don't eat it! It's now an epic battle and little Ms. Leg Warmer has just decided that we are to lie on our sides to do more leg lifts. I guess the 10,000 lunges, dips and donkey kicks weren't quite enough. I deserve that damn M & M.
I roll to my side, wipe the M & M against the fabric of my shirt, kiss it up to God and throw it in my mouth. All that happens is that I suddenly get a craving for more M & M's and frankly, I feel a little dirty. About this time the instructor says it's time to stretch and the workout is over. If only I could have held out a little longer.
So now I'm feeling kind of bad and I call a friend to inform her of this heinous act. I recount the whole thing in excruciating detail and when I'm done there's dead silence on the other end. Is she repulsed, mortified, thinking about having me committed? I hear her take a breath and begin to speak. "Big deal" she says, "I once ate a Samoa out of the trash can...it was on the top, on a plate. It hadn't touched any real trash and at least you were working out."
Do you have an eating or fitness true confession? Let me know.
Tami
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