“My name is Lisa, and I’m an exercise addict.”
If I was going to join a 12-step group at this point, I’m fairly sure that’s the admission you’d hear coming out of my mouth by way of introduction.
When my friend, Cindy, and I started a walking program 4 nights per week back in May of 2009, we wanted to get off the couch and lose weight, but we were adamant that we a.) were not going to become runners and b.) were only going to be “casual” exercisers, not like those hardcore folks you see pounding the pavement through heavy rain or triple-digit heat.
Although we would occasionally jog for maybe 50-100 yards to increase our heart rates, the pain in my knees and her hips seemed to prevent us from attempting running, even if we had wanted to do so. Thus, we kept the first resolution.
We also kept the second resolution – at least initially. The balmy spring gave way to one of the hottest summers in Oregon history, and we sensibly agreed not to walk on days which were 95 degrees or hotter. By fall, we were debating what indoor workout options we might consider for the upcoming winter. But by that time, walking had become so engrained that we just kept on walking, night after night. We shifted our route to well-lighted areas, even as we talked about trying martial arts, dance, or finding an indoor track, but somehow we managed to keep walking. Outdoors. All winter. There was even one week so cold that the water in my bottle would freeze as we walked. That was when we realized we had become fanatics. Well, so much for the second resolution.
Pride started to kick in, as we’d relay stories back and forth about the reactions of co-workers and acquaintances to our feats of temperature tolerance or distance. Our waistlines shrank, we had more energy, and suddenly we started having these crazy ideas. After walking for 8.5 miles on Thanksgiving morning to prepare for our respective Thanksgiving feasts, we started thinking “Why couldn’t we walk a half-marathon?” Then a casual conversation Cindy had with a co-worker made us start asking, “Why couldn’t we train to walk the Portland Marathon?”
Whoa. This was new territory for me. I’ve called marathoners crazy on more than one occasion, and now I was actually thinking about doing it? For real? “We’d be walking, not running, so that’s only half crazy.”
We initially started pushing ourselves with 12 mile walks on weekends, albeit not at a fast pace. After being warned of “overtraining” by a professional, we eventually purchased an online marathon training guide, and spent June and July doing the more modest ramp-up walks for speed, distance and hills. This guide propelled us to my corporate gym for the requisite cross-training sessions. We lifted weights, used elliptical trainers and stationary bikes, and walked inclines on the treadmills, trying to increase our pace from 18-20 minute miles to 15-16 minute miles.
Just about the time that Cindy, a naturally fast walker, announced that she was ready to risk paying the $135 registration fee while expecting that we would be fast enough to finish 26.2 miles in under 8 hours by October, I had come to the opposite conclusion. I was beating myself up that I couldn’t keep pace with someone 5 inches shorter than myself and with substantially shorter legs, and feeling like I would rather risk waiting to register until later when I had improved enough to feel confident. After all, if I was going to shell out $135 to take a 26.2 mile walk, I was going to get the shirt, the medal, and all the glory of accomplishment…. or die trying.
As it turned out, we didn’t have to make the decision, because the marathon was already full and registration was closed by July. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, so I settled for both. Of course, when race day dawned cloudy and with heavy downpours, I moved squarely into the “relieved” camp.
Our major goal was going to be delayed by a year, but we kept on walking and cross-training 4 days per week, as had become routine in the 14 months leading up to that point. But I was already doing more than our normal schedule called for. I had added in yoga classes 1-2 days per week.
Now fast forward to the fall of 2010. Cindy had to take most of November and December off due to work commitments and a lingering cold virus, but I soldiered on alone. And then my company started offering a Zumba class 1 day per week, and I jumped at the chance to burn more calories. And samba-ed at the chance. And hip-hopped at the chance. And belly-danced at the chance. (I love dance, and I’m still waiting for the many shows and performances I’ve watched to translate into some actual dancing skill on my part.)
So here I am today. I look and feel better than I have in perhaps the past decade, but it doesn’t feel like enough on many days. My body still isn’t what I would like it to be. I feel compelled to go for the maximum calorie burn on every workout. I regret my choice to hop on the stationary bike for an hour and “only” burn 350 calories when I could have burned 600 on the elliptical. I think about things like, “How will I be able to keep this up if I ever get married or have kids? I desperately want those things, but I don’t want to be chubby again either. I don’t want to be the wife who ‘lets herself go.’”
On one of those evenings alone in the gym, I was thumbing through a fitness magazine, and followed a little flow chart that asked questions about how often you work out, do you skip social activities if they conflict with your workout schedule, how do you feel when you miss a workout, etc. At the end of the chart, I ended up squarely in the bucket that said, “You need to give yourself a break sometimes.”
And it’s true.
People say “You look great!” and ask, “What’s your secret?” I answer, “Walking, elliptical training, yoga, weights, and now Zumba.” In my head, though, my snarky (and somewhat true) answer is “Self-loathing.” There are some very healthy aspects to what I’m doing –exercise being great for the body and mind– but I’m also realizing that on the other side of the coin of exercising in the name of health is punishing myself for not being as beautiful, skinny, and athletic as other women. I’ve long struggled with feeling less worthy of love than the svelte and glamorous women around me. “I can’t force my frame into a single-digit pant size, but dammit, I can be better than I was, and then maybe whatever man chooses me won’t feel like he got short-changed in the hotness department.”
It all goes back to the lie of the Great Enemy, as so eloquently described in the book Captivating. Satan paralyzes women with the notion that we’re “too much and not enough.” I’m too tall. I’m too curvy. I’m too uncoordinated. I’m not skinny enough. I’m not graceful enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not desirable enough to get a man. Lest you men think the lie stops at such a shallow level, it includes much more. I’m too independent. I’m too standoffish. I’m too critical. I’m not compassionate enough. I’m not smart enough. I’m not self-disciplined enough.
And so the exercise I’m doing is generally quite good for me, but the Enemy is ruining it with guilt that it’s not enough. I’m not enough. And that needs to stop. I need to keep making good choices for my health, but not get so beat up in the process.
“My name is Lisa, and I’m an exercise addict. I need to find a better balance. I need to be nicer to myself. But mostly, I need to find God’s grace to a woman He created to be tall, curvy, introspective and just as worthy of love as the petite, athletic, seemingly picture-perfect women He also created. Amen.”
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Thursday, August 19, 2010
What Men Need to Know
Lately, I've had a general complaint about a certain male behavior, and my pondering has morphed into not being sure whether or not men realize they do this.
It's pretty simple really, and it goes something like this: If you're in a committed relationship and have a friendship with a single woman, she needs to know that you're not available.
That sounds simple, right? So why do I keep getting burned by this?
It's pretty obvious when a man is wearing a wedding ring that he's off the market. When a man is dating someone, even long term, it can be less obvious unless he chooses to make it so.
Men, you need to know that women try you on like we try on shoes. It doesn't take long from the initial introduction until we're trying to picture what we'd talk about on a date, what we would do on a lazy Saturday morning together, how we'd interact as a couple having dinner with our friends...
If you didn't realize that, please don't be freaked out. In a healthy woman, it's just a preliminary assessment of potential compatibility, and it stops there. It doesn't mean we've already planned a life together and are going to make sure it happens come hell or high water. We've just done a quick mental inventory and decided that there's enough potential to say yes to a date should you ask. (If, on the other hand, you find a woman who believes that you will indeed spend your whole lives together just because that picture of Saturday morning is romantic and happy, RUN. Run fast. She's not healthy at all.)
Back to the issue at hand. A casual reference to your girlfriend when chatting about your weekend plans, a photograph in your office... these are the subtle clues that help us single ladies cease & desist trying to see if you might be a good fit.
If that initial try-on yields hopeful images, and you don't let us know you're not available... well, that's when the hurt happens. We click well in conversation, we have lots in common, we think you're attractive, and we notice you notice us.... so we think This is someone I could see myself with. We definitely have a connection. You've never mentioned a significant other, and you seem to show interest. And that's when our heart starts to get attached.
It may be completely unintentional for many men, who assume that either we know you're not available, or that it's just innocent flirtation so what's the harm? Other times, I've distinctly felt that it's intentional. Either the man is enjoying the ego boost of having the woman's attention, or perhaps he is keeping her in the dark about his relationship because he kinda digs her and wants to keep her for a backup in case his current relationship fails.
If the latter, let me say this: Letting us know that you have a girlfriend now doesn't mean that you wouldn't be up for consideration in the future if you become single again. Even more so because then we'd know if we were ever to become your girlfriend, you'd show us the same respect of letting other women know you're not available.
I'm not saying that you shouldn't have friendships with single women for fear of sending the wrong message. I'm just saying be transparent. If over the course of hours of conversation you haven't found one opportunity to mention that camping trip with your girlfriend, or include her name when describing your plans to attend that concert or food festival on the upcoming weekend, then Houston we have a problem. At that point, I think it's time to examine your motives and let that poor deluded girl off the hook.
Phew. I just really needed to get that out in the open because it hurts. Deeply. Please, please show us respect & compassion with that small action of disclosure. Naturally, the same goes for any women out there who are involved but still stringing along some hopeful fella.
Okay, I'm stepping down off my soapbox now. Thank you and goodnight.
It's pretty simple really, and it goes something like this: If you're in a committed relationship and have a friendship with a single woman, she needs to know that you're not available.
That sounds simple, right? So why do I keep getting burned by this?
It's pretty obvious when a man is wearing a wedding ring that he's off the market. When a man is dating someone, even long term, it can be less obvious unless he chooses to make it so.
Men, you need to know that women try you on like we try on shoes. It doesn't take long from the initial introduction until we're trying to picture what we'd talk about on a date, what we would do on a lazy Saturday morning together, how we'd interact as a couple having dinner with our friends...
If you didn't realize that, please don't be freaked out. In a healthy woman, it's just a preliminary assessment of potential compatibility, and it stops there. It doesn't mean we've already planned a life together and are going to make sure it happens come hell or high water. We've just done a quick mental inventory and decided that there's enough potential to say yes to a date should you ask. (If, on the other hand, you find a woman who believes that you will indeed spend your whole lives together just because that picture of Saturday morning is romantic and happy, RUN. Run fast. She's not healthy at all.)
Back to the issue at hand. A casual reference to your girlfriend when chatting about your weekend plans, a photograph in your office... these are the subtle clues that help us single ladies cease & desist trying to see if you might be a good fit.
If that initial try-on yields hopeful images, and you don't let us know you're not available... well, that's when the hurt happens. We click well in conversation, we have lots in common, we think you're attractive, and we notice you notice us.... so we think This is someone I could see myself with. We definitely have a connection. You've never mentioned a significant other, and you seem to show interest. And that's when our heart starts to get attached.
It may be completely unintentional for many men, who assume that either we know you're not available, or that it's just innocent flirtation so what's the harm? Other times, I've distinctly felt that it's intentional. Either the man is enjoying the ego boost of having the woman's attention, or perhaps he is keeping her in the dark about his relationship because he kinda digs her and wants to keep her for a backup in case his current relationship fails.
If the latter, let me say this: Letting us know that you have a girlfriend now doesn't mean that you wouldn't be up for consideration in the future if you become single again. Even more so because then we'd know if we were ever to become your girlfriend, you'd show us the same respect of letting other women know you're not available.
I'm not saying that you shouldn't have friendships with single women for fear of sending the wrong message. I'm just saying be transparent. If over the course of hours of conversation you haven't found one opportunity to mention that camping trip with your girlfriend, or include her name when describing your plans to attend that concert or food festival on the upcoming weekend, then Houston we have a problem. At that point, I think it's time to examine your motives and let that poor deluded girl off the hook.
Phew. I just really needed to get that out in the open because it hurts. Deeply. Please, please show us respect & compassion with that small action of disclosure. Naturally, the same goes for any women out there who are involved but still stringing along some hopeful fella.
Okay, I'm stepping down off my soapbox now. Thank you and goodnight.
Friday, July 16, 2010
An Open Letter
Dear Uterus:
I would like to remind you that you are NOT in charge of the universe. Furthermore, I repudiate your attempts at world domination. Stop it, just stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.
You are not entitled to dictate the terms of my whole life. While I may not be able to entirely prevent your interference in certain aspects, this does not give you grounds to take over entirely.
My appetite does not normally compel me to consume pizza and cookies by the boatload whilst bathing in a sea of hot fudge. Therefore you shall not incite these behaviors for 3-5 days each month, wreaking more havoc on my already puffy midsection.
Speaking of bloating, I banish your infernal power to inflict 2-3 pounds of water weight gain, and then to make it feel like 10 pounds. I’m pretty sure you’re subtly altering my wardrobe to amplify the effect, but I’m not giving in to your pressure to wear sweatpants to work. I will look stylish, even if I feel hideous.
I am henceforth reclaiming control over my lacrimal ducts, so that you may no longer cause me to sob at news stories, the outcomes of reality television or game shows, song lyrics, traffic jams, spilled milk, or the mere sight of baby clothes on racks at the store.
Furthermore, I’ve decided that cramps are just a physical manifestation of your tantrums when you don’t get your way on various issues. If I have to preemptively sedate you with Pamprin or Advil, even days in advance, so that I don’t end up in a fetal position unable to straighten myself up from my office floor, I’ll do it, so help me God. That is not an empty threat.
I could go on and on about specific incidents or the emotional impact of your domineering nature, but I’m hopeful that this public censure will improve your behavior and render further chastisement unnecessary.
I would thank you kindly to remember that you are but one small part of my body, and should not therefore take on disproportionate influence.
With hope for a better future relationship,
Me
I would like to remind you that you are NOT in charge of the universe. Furthermore, I repudiate your attempts at world domination. Stop it, just stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.
You are not entitled to dictate the terms of my whole life. While I may not be able to entirely prevent your interference in certain aspects, this does not give you grounds to take over entirely.
My appetite does not normally compel me to consume pizza and cookies by the boatload whilst bathing in a sea of hot fudge. Therefore you shall not incite these behaviors for 3-5 days each month, wreaking more havoc on my already puffy midsection.
Speaking of bloating, I banish your infernal power to inflict 2-3 pounds of water weight gain, and then to make it feel like 10 pounds. I’m pretty sure you’re subtly altering my wardrobe to amplify the effect, but I’m not giving in to your pressure to wear sweatpants to work. I will look stylish, even if I feel hideous.
I am henceforth reclaiming control over my lacrimal ducts, so that you may no longer cause me to sob at news stories, the outcomes of reality television or game shows, song lyrics, traffic jams, spilled milk, or the mere sight of baby clothes on racks at the store.
Furthermore, I’ve decided that cramps are just a physical manifestation of your tantrums when you don’t get your way on various issues. If I have to preemptively sedate you with Pamprin or Advil, even days in advance, so that I don’t end up in a fetal position unable to straighten myself up from my office floor, I’ll do it, so help me God. That is not an empty threat.
I could go on and on about specific incidents or the emotional impact of your domineering nature, but I’m hopeful that this public censure will improve your behavior and render further chastisement unnecessary.
I would thank you kindly to remember that you are but one small part of my body, and should not therefore take on disproportionate influence.
With hope for a better future relationship,
Me
Monday, June 28, 2010
Copycat
I'm totally copying Beth by reformatting my blog and pledging to write again, at least occasionally. Would it sound better if I said I was "inspired by" Beth? :o)
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Cricket... Cricket
Wow. I just realized that there's been nothing but utter blog silence here for months on end now. That's sad.
I could say that it's because between work, exercise, and volunteering at the zoo, I simply have no time. But the fact of the matter is that I've not been in a very contemplative place recently, because sometimes it's just too damn painful. Sometimes there's no comfort. Sometimes you don't hear His voice. Some things just can't be forced.
In a sermon recently, Pastors Bill and Jane described the response, "I'm fine" as an acronym for "Feelings I'm Not Expressing." But when an honest response to a casual question might give way to a deluge of hot tears and a torrent of emotions, some very childish and ugly, it can seem like a better bet to opt for the safe route. "Just stay away from those things. Go distract yourself. There's nothing to be done to fix it anyway."
Hiding? It may feel safe for awhile, especially for us introverts. Building walls? Erm, now it gets a little dangerous... no one gets in, but you can't get out either. Hardening the heart to dampen the disappointment. Ouch! That's not how I want to end up.
Jesus, keep me tender, despite my disappointed dreams and hurting heart. Please.
I could say that it's because between work, exercise, and volunteering at the zoo, I simply have no time. But the fact of the matter is that I've not been in a very contemplative place recently, because sometimes it's just too damn painful. Sometimes there's no comfort. Sometimes you don't hear His voice. Some things just can't be forced.
In a sermon recently, Pastors Bill and Jane described the response, "I'm fine" as an acronym for "Feelings I'm Not Expressing." But when an honest response to a casual question might give way to a deluge of hot tears and a torrent of emotions, some very childish and ugly, it can seem like a better bet to opt for the safe route. "Just stay away from those things. Go distract yourself. There's nothing to be done to fix it anyway."
Hiding? It may feel safe for awhile, especially for us introverts. Building walls? Erm, now it gets a little dangerous... no one gets in, but you can't get out either. Hardening the heart to dampen the disappointment. Ouch! That's not how I want to end up.
Jesus, keep me tender, despite my disappointed dreams and hurting heart. Please.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Are You Smarter Than an Almost-3-Year-Old?
Observations from babysitting Odin, which is a brand new experience every time. My understanding is that some of the rules which I have documented here are fairly consistent, while others change depending on the babysitter... or the weather... or the moment... :o)
ODIN’S RULES for SATURDAY, MAY 16th*
*Rules are subject to change at Odin’s sole discretion, with or without prior notice.
1. Toy trucks shall be called “roaries.” Any vehicle that is not actually a truck may also be categorized as a “roarie” at Odin’s discretion.
2. Lisa’s suggestion that hot rods and sports cars should be called “vrooms” instead of “roaries” shall be ignored.
3. Cranes are required construction when playing with building blocks. Furthermore, cranes must be constructed of either red or blue blocks. Green and orange cranes shall not be tolerated.
4. Wide bases to prevent tipping shall not be added to any new or existing cranes. This is not aesthetically pleasing to Odin and will not be tolerated.
5. Trains running on Odin’s track shall consist of one engine and one box car, neither more nor less. Multi-car trains are an abomination and must be eliminated.
6. The elimination of multi-car trains should involve spectacular derailings and much carnage.
7. Sometimes trucks and trains take precedence over silly things… like dinner.
8. Odin shall have the latitude to leave the dinner table to fetch “roaries” or Play-Doh at his whim. Tables are overrated anyhow.
9. When Lisa makes an unreasonable request, such as returning to the dinner table, Odin shall use the baby gate to lock himself out of the kitchen, thus providing a solid excuse for not being able to return to the table.
10. Odin shall periodically and arbitrarily change his mind on all manner of subjects, to make sure he always “wins” and to keep Lisa on her toes.
11. Baths are a welcome event, but shampoo is for sissies.
12. Odin shall retain control of any cup used to pour water over his head, prior to or following shampooing.
13. Feet are the only body part which shall allowed to be washed with soap. Soap is for sissies… but clean feet are next to (Norse) godliness.
14. Following the bath, hair combing is acceptable, provided that Odin retains control of the comb.
15. Bedtime stories must be read on the couch. Period.
16. If Lisa manages to trick Odin into his crib under the guise of scooping him up for a bear hug, Odin shall be allowed to retain his dignity by pretending to have been aware of Lisa’s intentions all along.
ODIN’S RULES for SATURDAY, MAY 16th*
*Rules are subject to change at Odin’s sole discretion, with or without prior notice.
1. Toy trucks shall be called “roaries.” Any vehicle that is not actually a truck may also be categorized as a “roarie” at Odin’s discretion.
2. Lisa’s suggestion that hot rods and sports cars should be called “vrooms” instead of “roaries” shall be ignored.
3. Cranes are required construction when playing with building blocks. Furthermore, cranes must be constructed of either red or blue blocks. Green and orange cranes shall not be tolerated.
4. Wide bases to prevent tipping shall not be added to any new or existing cranes. This is not aesthetically pleasing to Odin and will not be tolerated.
5. Trains running on Odin’s track shall consist of one engine and one box car, neither more nor less. Multi-car trains are an abomination and must be eliminated.
6. The elimination of multi-car trains should involve spectacular derailings and much carnage.
7. Sometimes trucks and trains take precedence over silly things… like dinner.
8. Odin shall have the latitude to leave the dinner table to fetch “roaries” or Play-Doh at his whim. Tables are overrated anyhow.
9. When Lisa makes an unreasonable request, such as returning to the dinner table, Odin shall use the baby gate to lock himself out of the kitchen, thus providing a solid excuse for not being able to return to the table.
10. Odin shall periodically and arbitrarily change his mind on all manner of subjects, to make sure he always “wins” and to keep Lisa on her toes.
11. Baths are a welcome event, but shampoo is for sissies.
12. Odin shall retain control of any cup used to pour water over his head, prior to or following shampooing.
13. Feet are the only body part which shall allowed to be washed with soap. Soap is for sissies… but clean feet are next to (Norse) godliness.
14. Following the bath, hair combing is acceptable, provided that Odin retains control of the comb.
15. Bedtime stories must be read on the couch. Period.
16. If Lisa manages to trick Odin into his crib under the guise of scooping him up for a bear hug, Odin shall be allowed to retain his dignity by pretending to have been aware of Lisa’s intentions all along.
Friday, May 15, 2009
28 Days Later (And I'm not talking about zombies...)
In case you were wondering about the prodigious growth rate of the goslings in my previous post, here's a little comparison to enlighten and entertain. The oldest goslings were about 2 weeks old in the photos I took on April 17. The new photos here are from today, a mere 4 weeks later.
This little, fluffy family...
...with the most darling faces...
...is now a ragtag gaggle of gawky teenagers...
...with down coming out in tufts, quills sticking out everywhere, and a general appearance comparable to mangy featherdusters...
Of course, when you grow to 2/3 your parents' size in only 6 weeks of life, there must be some growing pains involved...
...and a lot of sleep is required. (Seriously, is this one even breathing? It looks more like roadkill than Sleeping Beauty.)
Well, at least they don't have to go through it alone...
There's comfort in numbers. And their awkward teen phase is only a few weeks long, as opposed to a decade or more for humans. Heck, I'm not sure I ever got through mine. ;o)
This little, fluffy family...
...with the most darling faces...
...is now a ragtag gaggle of gawky teenagers...
...with down coming out in tufts, quills sticking out everywhere, and a general appearance comparable to mangy featherdusters...
Of course, when you grow to 2/3 your parents' size in only 6 weeks of life, there must be some growing pains involved...
...and a lot of sleep is required. (Seriously, is this one even breathing? It looks more like roadkill than Sleeping Beauty.)
Well, at least they don't have to go through it alone...
There's comfort in numbers. And their awkward teen phase is only a few weeks long, as opposed to a decade or more for humans. Heck, I'm not sure I ever got through mine. ;o)
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