DAY 2
I have three major goals this year, one of which is practicing yoga on a regular basis. There are several reasons for this, but the main one being that I hold a lot of tension in my back and neck and I have horrible, painful knots pretty much all the time. I have had several massage therapists, doctors, random people advise regular yoga as a way to manage this “medical condition” as my BFF calls it. BFF also officially diagnosed the source of these knots as General Anxiety Disorder (she has no medical training, per se, but I still consider her a main medical source in my life). That is a whole other topic, but until the existence of such a thing was brought to my awareness (by BFF), I truly did not know that there are people out there who don’t worry constantly about everything all the time! (Only three I personally know come to mind – my husband, my sister and a close, dear friend (MPBF).
I looked up several yoga classes at different locations, tried to coordinate with friends, so as to have someone to giggle with when we fell over, but nothing worked out for this week. This morning, I saw the small, local, yoga studio was having a morning class and I thought “Eff it – I’m going – and I can always walk out after 5 minutes.” I then proceeded to do everything possible to miss the class…like run a few errands, diddle around the house, think about all the other things I have to do – the endless “to do” list. Fortunately and unfortunately, I still got there in plenty of time. And it was completely wonderful. It was difficult, for sure, and I found myself thinking more than once “I should’ve just stayed home – this is too hard!” I also particularly almost gave up when the instructor (who is 4 months pregnant) did this awesome, leg-way-up-over-her-head pose. I do not even want to tell you what my imitation of that looked like. But, by the end of the class, my body felt better, more energized and peaceful than it had in a long time. And it is maybe my imagination, but I have felt calmer all day. I’m hooked.
BUT. This does not mean that I will be a regular there every week. THAT is the trap I seem to always fall into. I tour a gym (buy a year membership), try a kickboxing class (buy a 10 class pass), try a yoga class (commit to weekly classes), run one morning with a friend (and agree we should do it 3 times a week), and then I completely avoid it. Isn’t that SO WEIRD? Or am I just lazy? Or do I secretly just want to stay floppy so I can have something to complain about?
I have concluded that I am a complete commitment phobe when it comes to exercise. Buying the pass, getting a membership, working out with a friend is supposed to hold you accountable. It has the complete opposite effect on me. This again brought me back to the 5-minute Every Day rule. My head is spinning with the possibilities! Zumba class! Pole dancing! Lunges! All of these things sound like big fun, as long as I tell myself that I never have to do it again if I don’t want to or for longer than 5 minutes.
Which brings me to my second idea for this project: not planning more than a day ahead. I have no idea what I will do tomorrow, but it can be anything I want, depending on my mood, schedule, whatever.
Let me be clear: I am not expecting to lose weight doing this (but that, of course, would be super). Losing weight is hard and it takes concerted effort. I know – I’ve tried and sometimes won and sometimes lost. My goal is to simply be more active in my daily life and see what happens. Is exercise a habit that must be formed? Is it will power? Is it finding the right mix that is fun for you? And IS IT WORTH IT?
The yoga teacher began class today with asking us to have “no judgement and no expectations” for ourselves. Trying to fully digest what that would mean, I think about how I always seem to be frustrated with myself that I don’t do MORE at all times. In particular when I commit to exercising for a period of time and then don’t see the immediate results I expect. Or is that called having no freakin patience?
I have told a few good friends about this blog. The conversation went universally something like this:
“Hey! Guess what? I started a blog…”
“Wow! That’s great.”
“…about exercise.”
“Oh. About exercise? But you don’t…I mean, yeah, that’s great!”
Monday, August 31, 2009
An effin jelly bean
DAY 2, REPORT FROM BFF
7:50 pm: Hmph. After getting a good look at gelatinous belly, feel that it is necessary to make a stop by the YMCA. Am well equipped with Perfect Playlist and Ipod, but of course am only expecting 5 minutes out of myself, as per requirement.
8:24 pm: And...done. Check! 5 minutes on the treadmill. Plus 10 flopping around trying to look knowledgeable on machines my trainer showed me how to use. A while ago. And it turns out you actually have to charge the Ipod in order to HEAR the Perfect Playlist. Ah well. So I watched some sort of country music awards. On mute. Awes! I rock. Now onto a quick trip to Marshall's to find special, magical outfit to make me feel fab. For $12.
Oh, and the machine says I burned 27 calories. An insult. What is that, like an effin jelly bean?
7:50 pm: Hmph. After getting a good look at gelatinous belly, feel that it is necessary to make a stop by the YMCA. Am well equipped with Perfect Playlist and Ipod, but of course am only expecting 5 minutes out of myself, as per requirement.
8:24 pm: And...done. Check! 5 minutes on the treadmill. Plus 10 flopping around trying to look knowledgeable on machines my trainer showed me how to use. A while ago. And it turns out you actually have to charge the Ipod in order to HEAR the Perfect Playlist. Ah well. So I watched some sort of country music awards. On mute. Awes! I rock. Now onto a quick trip to Marshall's to find special, magical outfit to make me feel fab. For $12.
Oh, and the machine says I burned 27 calories. An insult. What is that, like an effin jelly bean?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
All sorts of confident
DAY 1
With the children suitably occupied, I am determined to start the project with a bang. A (brisk) walk around the neighborhood on this lovely cool morning! Whee!
First up: Dress myself in exercise ware. We have discussed at length on many different occasions the importance of looking like you’re a regular exerciser, whether you actually are or not. If you are smartly dressed in sleek athletic ware, no matter your shape or size, people automatically assume you have been exercising or are going to exercise at some point in the day. This can garner some respect. And if you do actually exercise, being dressed in a way that makes you feel good goes a long way in motivation. I am not altogether pleased with what I manage to pull out of my closet today. Some sweat pants. A faded black tank top. And some socks with holes in them that once sported the Nike symbol. But, undeterred, I dress as sportily as I can.
Next important part of exercising: Tunes. I have heard real exercisers say that they don’t like listening to music, but just the sound of their own breathe and heartbeat. That is lovely… and I aspire to one day understand that. But, that is seriously not going to cut it for me at the moment. For the past several years, in my sporadic exercise attempts, I have used an MP3 player, bought new when MP3 players were all the rage. Since I promptly lost the instructions when I first got it, it doesn’t have any music on it. So I tune into the radio, usually the local easy listening station with the least commercials, and bop along to the likes of old Wilson Philips songs. This is disturbing to many of our friends, particularly the guys, who are technologically advanced and think I am insane. But, I refuse to let this stop me.
BFF and I discuss the absolute importance of getting some good exercise music as we sit in the car one day, with sleeping babies in the backseat. With fresh resolution, we call her husband, convinced this one small detail is the only thing standing between me and regular exercise.
“Honey,” she says (all business), “please tell us again how EXACTLY we can put music on Mimi’s MP3 player.” (He knows about these sorts of things.)
“Ok,” he replies patiently. “She needs to get in her car…”
“Ok…” BFF replies, confident we are onto something.
He continues: “…drive to the store…and buy an Ipod.”
I finally give in and purchase an Ipod. Oh, the whole new world! Pleased, I conclude, investing money in tunes is well worth it.
And so now I am off. I start down the street (now bopping along to “Doncha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me”). Five minutes in, I suddenly realize the beauty of the 5-minute exercise plan. Yes, I could turn on my heel and head home, having accomplished what I set out to do. But, what the hay – I’m out, I’m dressed, I’m gonna keep on going. Twenty minutes in, when I am the furthest from the house, I am not too entirely pleased with having scoffed at the 5 minute plan. If I had my cell phone, I might have called my husband to come pick me up. It is getting awfully hot. But, with no other choice, I soldier on. Finally returning home, I have walked (briskly!) for 40 minutes. And therein lays the genius of planning to exercise for only 5 minutes. By the time you dress, get your tunes, chances are you are going to do more.
Being a perfectionist, I tend to be black and white. I’m either going to exercise 30 minutes to 1 hour a day, 5 – 6 times a week, or I’m not going to do it at all. And this also requires extensive planning, charts, lists, and laying out of clothes the night before. You might see why I have completely lost my steam by the time I actually get around to the exercise part. With the goal of 5 minutes a day, EVERY DAY, no matter what, it takes out some of the guess work. I should be able to do this no matter what I’m wearing or where I am.
In other words, I am all sorts of confident.
With the children suitably occupied, I am determined to start the project with a bang. A (brisk) walk around the neighborhood on this lovely cool morning! Whee!
First up: Dress myself in exercise ware. We have discussed at length on many different occasions the importance of looking like you’re a regular exerciser, whether you actually are or not. If you are smartly dressed in sleek athletic ware, no matter your shape or size, people automatically assume you have been exercising or are going to exercise at some point in the day. This can garner some respect. And if you do actually exercise, being dressed in a way that makes you feel good goes a long way in motivation. I am not altogether pleased with what I manage to pull out of my closet today. Some sweat pants. A faded black tank top. And some socks with holes in them that once sported the Nike symbol. But, undeterred, I dress as sportily as I can.
Next important part of exercising: Tunes. I have heard real exercisers say that they don’t like listening to music, but just the sound of their own breathe and heartbeat. That is lovely… and I aspire to one day understand that. But, that is seriously not going to cut it for me at the moment. For the past several years, in my sporadic exercise attempts, I have used an MP3 player, bought new when MP3 players were all the rage. Since I promptly lost the instructions when I first got it, it doesn’t have any music on it. So I tune into the radio, usually the local easy listening station with the least commercials, and bop along to the likes of old Wilson Philips songs. This is disturbing to many of our friends, particularly the guys, who are technologically advanced and think I am insane. But, I refuse to let this stop me.
BFF and I discuss the absolute importance of getting some good exercise music as we sit in the car one day, with sleeping babies in the backseat. With fresh resolution, we call her husband, convinced this one small detail is the only thing standing between me and regular exercise.
“Honey,” she says (all business), “please tell us again how EXACTLY we can put music on Mimi’s MP3 player.” (He knows about these sorts of things.)
“Ok,” he replies patiently. “She needs to get in her car…”
“Ok…” BFF replies, confident we are onto something.
He continues: “…drive to the store…and buy an Ipod.”
I finally give in and purchase an Ipod. Oh, the whole new world! Pleased, I conclude, investing money in tunes is well worth it.
And so now I am off. I start down the street (now bopping along to “Doncha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me”). Five minutes in, I suddenly realize the beauty of the 5-minute exercise plan. Yes, I could turn on my heel and head home, having accomplished what I set out to do. But, what the hay – I’m out, I’m dressed, I’m gonna keep on going. Twenty minutes in, when I am the furthest from the house, I am not too entirely pleased with having scoffed at the 5 minute plan. If I had my cell phone, I might have called my husband to come pick me up. It is getting awfully hot. But, with no other choice, I soldier on. Finally returning home, I have walked (briskly!) for 40 minutes. And therein lays the genius of planning to exercise for only 5 minutes. By the time you dress, get your tunes, chances are you are going to do more.
Being a perfectionist, I tend to be black and white. I’m either going to exercise 30 minutes to 1 hour a day, 5 – 6 times a week, or I’m not going to do it at all. And this also requires extensive planning, charts, lists, and laying out of clothes the night before. You might see why I have completely lost my steam by the time I actually get around to the exercise part. With the goal of 5 minutes a day, EVERY DAY, no matter what, it takes out some of the guess work. I should be able to do this no matter what I’m wearing or where I am.
In other words, I am all sorts of confident.
The arms are out of control
“Ok,” she says (my BFF), “this is OUT OF CONTROL.”
“What?” I say.
“The arms,” she replies.
I immediately understand. The arms are an issue. One of several that seems to have cropped up, almost overnight, it seems. No, it’s not a complete surprise. I mean, we do like the cookie dough. And the bread and cheese. And we DO like the vino. We like the vino quite a lot actually. And exercise for the both of us might be best described as sporadic…and that also depends on what you define as “exercise”. As working mothers to young children, we mostly get by on a shit and a giggle (to quote a dear friend)…and also vino. Exercise doesn’t really play into this whole scenario much. It actually does as a theory, just not in practice.
I am not signifigantly overweight, nor am I a size 6. I wouldn’t describe myself as “un-athletic”. In fact, in my head, I am actually QUITE athletic, although the regularity in which that actually translates to me moving my body for an extended period of time…well, like I said, there are some issues. Instead of comparing our six packs, we compare who looks more like they are 5 months pregnant (although we’re not). It’s a morbid fascination of sorts. Almost as if our bodies are betraying us –as if childbirth, age, and delight in food shouldn’t have had the results they have had.
We discuss exercise quite often. Mostly we talk about other people we know who exercise regularly, what they do, how great they feel! How awesome they look! How they lost 20 pounds in 2 weeks by running 15 miles a day! We don’t really like all that. It seems like it requires an awful lot of effort. And let’s be perfectly honest. At 6 am, when other people are bounding up to exercise, I am snuggling down into my nice, comfy bed in my nice, quiet house. No WAY am I going to risk waking up the little monsters before I absolutely have to. Plus, I really like staying in bed. I am good at it. In a questionnaire about his mom one time (meant to be sweet and endearing) my son answered the question “What is your mom good at?” with “Sleeping.” I didn’t really appreciate that, since I kill myself all day every day making sure he has the absolute perfect life filled with meaningful activities, home cooked meals, love and laughter. But, whatever. Ungrateful children. In the evening, when the kids are finally in bed, exercise is just about dead last on my list of things I want to do. Having just a little vino is quite a bit higher up on that list.
This does eventually catch up to you. Despite the fact that we don’t exercise regularly and absolutely love having some little treats for ourselves, we also still fully expect to look like we did when we were 18 and getting ready for a night out. It’s secretly a little shocking when a little black dress clings in all the wrong ways. And when this happens, resolutions are made. Strategies are discussed. Inspirational phrases and motivational stories dusted off and flung about in confident tones.
I did once exercise for several months in a row. I started running (running/walking) with a neighbor, who had once run a marathon. She was undeterred by my excuses. She didn’t give me ultimatums, but was very persistent. She had strategies for walking a certain number of minutes, then running, then running faster and faster. I have to admit, I felt great. Really, honestly great. I lost weight. My waist was thin and trim. I was mentally clearer and more alert. And I got appreciative comments, which really is the whole point of it anyway. But, then for whatever reason, I began to make excuses, one of which was that I didn’t want to “over-exercise”. I got that lil gem from my mom, and because my mom always seems to know random things that no one else knows, I took it very seriously and began to scale back on my exercise, not wanting to "over-exercise" which eventually led to me stopping all together.
From time to time one of us will call the other to announce brightly, “I do pilates (yoga/cycling/walking) now!”
“Really?” the other will ask.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I did it once last week and so, ya know, I think that means that I can say I do pilates (yoga/cycling/walking) now.”
We have spent years discussing whether exercise is actually really the answer that so many people swear it is. There is always the latest book/theory/strategy for exercising, which all mainly boils down to, you have to actually do something physical and keep doing it for longer than a week. We have had a lot of doubts about this. Besides a few blips on the screen, neither one of us have been athletes or athletic, so to speak, for any long period of time in our lives. So this remains largely an untested theory in our personal lives.
And so now we have come to a crossroads. It seems that this is a crossroads that many people, especially moms, seem to reach at some point. Do we actually get serious and make exercise an honest to goodness part of our lives, for the sake of health, self-confidence and vanity, or do we continue on the way we are and really just hope for the best, all the while complaining that we're fat and feel unattractive? And so this little project is born. Commit to trying exercise. Regularly. For an extended period of time. And see what all the fuss is about.
I called my BFF with great excitement to pitch the project. “Let’s exercise at least 15 minutes a day and blog about it!”
Awkward silence.
“Ummm…wow. 15 minutes. What about 5 minutes a day?!” she asked hopefully.
And so here it is. We are beginning with doing something that can be qualified as exercise for a minimum of 5 minutes a day. For 1 year. And we’re going to write about it.
“What?” I say.
“The arms,” she replies.
I immediately understand. The arms are an issue. One of several that seems to have cropped up, almost overnight, it seems. No, it’s not a complete surprise. I mean, we do like the cookie dough. And the bread and cheese. And we DO like the vino. We like the vino quite a lot actually. And exercise for the both of us might be best described as sporadic…and that also depends on what you define as “exercise”. As working mothers to young children, we mostly get by on a shit and a giggle (to quote a dear friend)…and also vino. Exercise doesn’t really play into this whole scenario much. It actually does as a theory, just not in practice.
I am not signifigantly overweight, nor am I a size 6. I wouldn’t describe myself as “un-athletic”. In fact, in my head, I am actually QUITE athletic, although the regularity in which that actually translates to me moving my body for an extended period of time…well, like I said, there are some issues. Instead of comparing our six packs, we compare who looks more like they are 5 months pregnant (although we’re not). It’s a morbid fascination of sorts. Almost as if our bodies are betraying us –as if childbirth, age, and delight in food shouldn’t have had the results they have had.
We discuss exercise quite often. Mostly we talk about other people we know who exercise regularly, what they do, how great they feel! How awesome they look! How they lost 20 pounds in 2 weeks by running 15 miles a day! We don’t really like all that. It seems like it requires an awful lot of effort. And let’s be perfectly honest. At 6 am, when other people are bounding up to exercise, I am snuggling down into my nice, comfy bed in my nice, quiet house. No WAY am I going to risk waking up the little monsters before I absolutely have to. Plus, I really like staying in bed. I am good at it. In a questionnaire about his mom one time (meant to be sweet and endearing) my son answered the question “What is your mom good at?” with “Sleeping.” I didn’t really appreciate that, since I kill myself all day every day making sure he has the absolute perfect life filled with meaningful activities, home cooked meals, love and laughter. But, whatever. Ungrateful children. In the evening, when the kids are finally in bed, exercise is just about dead last on my list of things I want to do. Having just a little vino is quite a bit higher up on that list.
This does eventually catch up to you. Despite the fact that we don’t exercise regularly and absolutely love having some little treats for ourselves, we also still fully expect to look like we did when we were 18 and getting ready for a night out. It’s secretly a little shocking when a little black dress clings in all the wrong ways. And when this happens, resolutions are made. Strategies are discussed. Inspirational phrases and motivational stories dusted off and flung about in confident tones.
I did once exercise for several months in a row. I started running (running/walking) with a neighbor, who had once run a marathon. She was undeterred by my excuses. She didn’t give me ultimatums, but was very persistent. She had strategies for walking a certain number of minutes, then running, then running faster and faster. I have to admit, I felt great. Really, honestly great. I lost weight. My waist was thin and trim. I was mentally clearer and more alert. And I got appreciative comments, which really is the whole point of it anyway. But, then for whatever reason, I began to make excuses, one of which was that I didn’t want to “over-exercise”. I got that lil gem from my mom, and because my mom always seems to know random things that no one else knows, I took it very seriously and began to scale back on my exercise, not wanting to "over-exercise" which eventually led to me stopping all together.
From time to time one of us will call the other to announce brightly, “I do pilates (yoga/cycling/walking) now!”
“Really?” the other will ask.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I did it once last week and so, ya know, I think that means that I can say I do pilates (yoga/cycling/walking) now.”
We have spent years discussing whether exercise is actually really the answer that so many people swear it is. There is always the latest book/theory/strategy for exercising, which all mainly boils down to, you have to actually do something physical and keep doing it for longer than a week. We have had a lot of doubts about this. Besides a few blips on the screen, neither one of us have been athletes or athletic, so to speak, for any long period of time in our lives. So this remains largely an untested theory in our personal lives.
And so now we have come to a crossroads. It seems that this is a crossroads that many people, especially moms, seem to reach at some point. Do we actually get serious and make exercise an honest to goodness part of our lives, for the sake of health, self-confidence and vanity, or do we continue on the way we are and really just hope for the best, all the while complaining that we're fat and feel unattractive? And so this little project is born. Commit to trying exercise. Regularly. For an extended period of time. And see what all the fuss is about.
I called my BFF with great excitement to pitch the project. “Let’s exercise at least 15 minutes a day and blog about it!”
Awkward silence.
“Ummm…wow. 15 minutes. What about 5 minutes a day?!” she asked hopefully.
And so here it is. We are beginning with doing something that can be qualified as exercise for a minimum of 5 minutes a day. For 1 year. And we’re going to write about it.
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