The Hidden Danger of Exercising with Earphones

Yes, it's true; I exercise with earphones. When biking or running, for the record, I use earphones which don't block external sounds, so I'm not living as dangerously as some others might with earbuds.

So, yes, on the bike I'm taking risks by not hearing as well as I could otherwise. And, yes, when running I'm taking risks by not hearing as well as I might otherwise. I've accepted those risks, and I try to be alert to my surroundings.

Little did I know that the true danger lay elsewhere.

You see, I also wear headphones when I swim. I thought I was safe. I mean, many swimmers wear ear plugs to keep water out of their ears. They can't hear much either, right? It's not like a car would come barreling through my swim lane, right? Whatever urgent information while swimming could wait until I hit the wall, right? So, I thought, I could tune out my surroundings at little risk.

Little did I know that the true danger lay within.

I don't always listen to music. I frequently listen to audiobooks or podcasts. I am particularly fond of NPR podcasts like This American Life. Yesterday, as I had done many times before, I listened an episode of that very show. One of the stories was read by essayist David Sedaris.

If you haven't read (or heard) anything by David Sedaris, I entreat you to delay no longer: Rush out and buy a book or, better yet, buy an audiobook read by David Sedaris himself. He will make you laugh. He will make you cry. He will make you do both at the same time.

And this, my dear friends, is where my near-fatal mistake lay.

For, really, how can one every be trained well enough to counter a laughing fit in the middle of the pool?

One can't.

There I was, mid-length, laughing like a maniac. Not only did I have quickly cease swimming to make sure to get my head above water, lest I drown in four feet of water, but I then had to do my best to ensure that my erratic behavior didn't alarm any fellow swimmers. They, surely, are not used to finding themselves in the pool with a deliriously hysterical woman.

Despite the fact that, at this time, we all had the luxury of our own lane, I do believe that they each quietly inched to one side of their lanes, attempting to place as much water as possible between them and me, and hoping desperately that my madness was not somehow contagious.

They could not understand.

But now, at least, you understand. You know where the hidden danger lies.

Swim safe, and choose your podcasts with care.

Photo credit: _Morrissey_, Creative Commons usage

Follow the Yellow Brick Road...

All right. I feel like if I don't post, people are going to wonder if I've curled up into a ball of self-loathing. For the record: I haven't, and I don't plan to. I have run for the past few days (including today), I biked yesterday, and I'm about to go to the gym for a swim.

OK, you want real honesty? I may have realized another "trigger" for my little "relapse" last week. Ssshhhhh.... It's a secret. I'll let you in on it if you promise not to tell anyone.

You ready? OK, here goes. One of the things my therapist and I discussed right beforehand: Putting myself out there into the world of dating or at least meeting people. We discussed a dating site possibility, and maybe even getting it together enough to go to a meetup.com event. I agreed that I would take a picture of myself with my cute new haircut, in one of my cute new tops, and post a picture online and see what happens.

Do you hear the panic in my typing?

Part of me is ready. It is, really. I look in the mirror, like what I see, and think, "Why not? What could it hurt? It could even be fun."

The other part screams, "What the hell are you thinking?!? This is rejection on a huge scale, lady! It's not just one guy rejecting you at a time, it's the whole friggin' internet world! We're not ready for that!"

And then both parts agree that a chocolate cake from Jack in the Box sounds delicious.

But that's not productive. Even if it does distract both sides of the internet dating battle, it's not productive. I get that. Well, I'm getting that. The past few days have been good. Not perfect, but good.

More importantly, I've had some time to refocus on what's really important. I've said it before that exercise/fitness is my highest priority. I mean, come on, the blog is called "Fat Athlete" not "Fat Dieter", right? Right.

So, that's what I'll focus on. If I feel like I need to eat a little heavier, I'll listen and not berate myself for eating a little more than normal. But the exercise will be my top priority. Six days out of seven I will do something more than walking the dog around a few blocks. It can be a run, a swim, a ride, a hike, a weight training session, a jaunt on the elliptical gathering dust in the spare room, or anything else I think of. I've got plenty of options.

And, yeah, when I exercise, I tend to eat better. Not always, but most of the time. I feel better, so I eat better. They just seem to go hand in hand.

So, yeah. One more confession and a plan. Good enough for today.

(Oh, and, no. In case you're left wondering, my title doesn't have anything to do with today's post. Well, perhaps it does have a bit to do with persistence to a set goal even when one doesn't know what obstacles and detours life may throw. So, yeah. That could be a connection. If you really need one.)

A Step Forward

OK, I'll admit it: I'm a bit nervous. I thought about yesterday's post and it's somewhat reminiscent of the posts I made leading up to my departure years ago. Not identical, but reminiscent. A key difference is that I'm much more resolved right now, whereas I was a bit more whiny back then.

So, I started to look at some differences between then and now. First, I've hit a lower weight, so I've technically broken through my previous wall (technically). Next, I have more upcoming events than I did back then, so I need to keep up the training. Most importantly, perhaps, I have a therapist. I did that on purpose, remember? I knew that I had always hit a wall in the past, so I "hired"(?) a therapist quite some time ago so she could help me break through that wall.

So, really, no excuses. Staying at this weight: OK. Losing more weight: Great. Gaining weight back: Not an option.

The same for sport/exercise. Staying at this level: OK. Relaxing just a teeny bit: Fine. Picking it up: Superb. Returning to couch-potatohood: Not an option.

For today, I've been eating OK. Not fantastic, no deficit, but also no junk/fast food to kick me way over maintenance.

I also went for a hard run. They say that the hardest part of a workout is lacing up the shoes. Definitely true. Once I got out there, I wondered why I hadn't been running the past few days. It's a blast! No, it's not easy by any means, but it feels good. Why deprive myself of the joys of sport?

Tomorrow: A bike ride. Maybe even a swim in the evening.

(For those paying extraordinary attention (even a bit too much attention, perhaps, but I won't judge): Since I skipped my weight training session on Thursday, I've decided that that will be my deload week leading up to beginning The New Rules of Lifting. So I'll start that soon.)

So, is everything roses? Not yet. But at least I can still see the flowers for the thorns.

Another Look at Motivation... and Something Else

Well, wasn't that fast? Just a few days ago I declare that I am done futzing around with my weight loss and am renewed in maintaining a daily deficit of 500-1000 calories.

And that lasted... Should I count in hours or minutes?

Either way, I crashed and burned. Quickly.

Why?

Likely suspects: PMS, oppressively hot weather, general burn-out, stress (the new school year starts very soon), a certain part of my psyche saying "enough" and rebelling against the healthful lifestyle...

I'll tell you which one I believe is guilty, but, in any case, I've been hitting fast food and junk food.

Worse yet: I haven't been exercising.

It's an ugly cycle. I eat Jack in the Box and feel stuffed so I don't want to exercise. I didn't exercise, so I'm missing the endorphins so I eat bad food looking for whatever that provides. Continue in circular fashion for... 48 hours now?

I'm not sure I ever mentioned this before, but I smoked marijuana for a short period about a decade ago. (Bear with me; I'm going somewhere with this.) For the most part, it was part of my "unwind" routine after work. I would smoke out the way some people would have a drink at the end of the day.

Now, you might think that pot would have made me gain weight, but I lost weight. (I was already losing weight, so the MJ just didn't disrupt the process.) But what about munchies? I never got them. I have a pet hypothesis that, just as stimulants have the opposite effect in children with ADHD (they calm them down), pot had the opposite effect in me.

The bigger issue is that, as was discovered years ago, eating "mass quantities" of food triggers a particular neurochemical reaction in the brain. This reaction is, believe it or not, similar to the effects of marijuana.

When I learned this, I was not surprised. You see, when I stopped smoking out every night... I started binging. I continued to do that for over a month. It was the only time in my life in which I binged. I didn't know why at the time, but after I learned about the connection between consuming a lot of food and THC (the active chemical in marijuana), I realized that I was basically seeking out that same semi-euphoric relaxation.

Does it make sense that now, as I'm beginning to feel some anxiety about the beginning of a new school year, I'm seeking that same relaxation? Bottom line: I think I'm self-medicating.

Funny thing: When I relayed all this to my therapist recently, she asked whether I had ever looked into medical marijuana. I quickly chuckled it off because I was afraid it would affect my motivation and my exercise.

On the other hand, if my current behavior is affecting my motivation and my exercise... would it be any worse? Would it actually be better?

In any case, I need to get a grip. I am absolutely not willing to undo my hard work. If I stay at 190-195, I can begrudgingly accept that. (Though I would still prefer to lose more weight. It's hard to bike this extra weight up the hills.) But I am completely resolute that I will not go above 200.

I will not. Period.

"Help Me Lose Weight."

We had just finished lunch when that sentence was thrown at me by a friend. Wow, I take that as a huge compliment. At the same time, I was flummoxed. I think I was looking at him as if I were waiting for a punchline, so he followed up with, "I want to lose weight. Tell me what to do."

Um, OK. Still flummoxed. First, there was the whole issue that I didn't think that he needs to lose weight, but I figured there was no point in saying that. I hated it when people would say it to me when I had already made it clear that I was "ok" with wanting to lose some weight. He didn't ask me whether he should lose weight; he wanted to know how to lose weight.

I had to ponder. After what seems like thousands of internet discussions and even a couple of long-winded posts on how to lose weight here, I now needed to boil it down to the absolute essence of weight loss. The magic keys to the kingdom, as it were.

I pondered.

I then responded, and many readers will be completely unsurprised by this response.

I have to count calories.

I can exercise or not exercise, but I have to count calories. I prefer to exercise because it allows me to eat more.

I can eat crap or I can eat healthfully, but it comes down to calories. I prefer to eat healthful foods because it makes me feel better and more satisfied. Within reason, of course. If I ate 90% carbs and fat, I really wouldn't do well, but you know what I mean.

It all comes down to counting calories.

He looked a little disappointed. There was no magic bullet. It was nothing he hadn't tried before. It was a hard job that he'd have to work at. Ultimately, it was an answer he already knew.

Shortly thereafter, we arrived at the crux of the matter: Motivation. That, he knew without asking, was all on him. Only one person can motivate you, and that's you.

I guess I'm not much of a sage, but at least I say it as I see it. That's something.

Ravenous

Ran this morning. Worked at the school a bit, unpacking for my new room. Hit the weight room hard this evening and finished up with a medium-length swim. Came home and made some grilled boneless chicken thighs with buttered toast and veggies. I must have tasted it at some point because I know it was all fantastic. But I'm not sure I chewed very much, instead choosing to inhale deeply in a near-continuous fashion. Very unladylike, I must admit. I was absolutely ravenous.

So, just a warning: After a hard day, don't dare get between me and my dinner, particularly if it involves chicken thighs. At least not if you value your fingers.

I do feel much better now.

Seven Day Challenge Conclusion

Side note: I first typed the title in as "Seven Dan Challenge". Boy would that have taken this blog in a completely different direction! OK, sorry, back to family friendly blogging.

How did you do? Did you make it seven days? I did, but only because I cheated. (For those who don't know, my challenge was to get out of bed nearly immediately after waking naturally.) So, how did I cheat? I started using my alarm clock. It was the only way I could do it. Otherwise I'd just keep going back to sleep and waste precious daylight. Some habits, like chewing one's nails, are simply so ingrained that it takes a very concerted effort... more effort than I could gather when half asleep.

So, did I meet the challenge? Well, technically perhaps. But not really. Sadly, school duties are beginning, so I can't reset my challenge. I'll consider redoing it next break.

I hope you all had better success than me.

A Jolt to Reality... and a Moment of Pure Joy

Let's get this out first: Yes, I weigh myself twice a day. Shame on me. Only the morning counts (and even that doesn't really count because it only gets calculated into the average weight), but I also step on every night before bed just as a "preview" of the next day.

Last night I hit 195. That's it. Too high. No berating, no anger, no kicking myself. Just a renewed determination. I've been way too lax for way too long. Maybe it was a break I and/or my body needed. But I'm done now. Back to a 500-1000 calorie deficit per day with one "refuel" day per week. Period.

Now, after that jolt back to reality, I have the happy coincidence of having coupons for Lane Bryant (LB), a store which specializes in plus sizes. Well, it's not that happy. I had actually hoped to be shopping somewhere other than Lane Bryant for my back-to-work wardrobe, but the unlikelihood of that became clear quite some time ago. So, whatev. I have a LB credit card, coupons, and closets way too empty for the start of school. Off I go.

I buy some blouses that fit perfectly and one pair of pants that fits a bit tight. (Something to work for, right?) I chuckle a couple of times as I realize, in the fitting room, that I had pulled some tops off the shelf at the wrong (old) size just out of habit. And then I put on the knit tops I had picked out. I am astounded. They are the smallest size LB sells... and they are grotesquely baggy. Yay!

But... What now? I need some knit tops to complete certain outfits and... well, what now?

So I peruse the mall.

Yes, the mall.

You may not understand, but this is huge.

The first "normal people" clothes store (no offense, please; that's just how these things are said in my brain) I walk into doesn't quite have what I'm looking for, so I just cruise around the store and duck back out. No one looks at me funny and I don't have to decide whether or not to actually try on some "normal people" clothes. Good.

The second store has just the style of top I'm looking for. The clerk behind the counter notices my LB bags and asks about the store, whether they have some particular sales and/or good deals. She then slyly mentions that they carry womens' clothing in the back of the store.

Uh, oh... I wonder, Is she trying to tell me something?

I shake that off and remember that I'm carrying a bag of clothes from a plus-size store. Either it was just a natural flow of conversation, or she made a logical conclusion from my bags. No biggie.

After chatting briefly, I dare to take a single "regular person" XL top (which you may know is often different from a plus-size XL size) and ask about trying it on.

I slip into the fitting room and slip into the top. I look in the mirror. Not only does it fit, but I look good! I fit into a shirt at a regular store. And, don't take this as bragging, but it looks damn good on me!

I jump up and down for joy. Literally. I'm in the stall in the fitting room, jumping up and down with glee. I swear to myself that I will not cry, blink away some moisture from my eyes, and go out to pick out some more items.

Today I bought three shirts from the regular section of a regular clothing store. It sounds so small, so menial, but let me tell you: It is not small; it is not menial. It may be just what I needed.

Random Rinky-Dink Review #1: Purple Cauliflower

This may be old news to some of you, but they now have purple cauliflower. I knew about the orange cauliflower, and the green, but I was particularly excited to see purple at the market today. I don't get enough purple veggies in my diet. I figured I like cauliflower, I like purple potatoes. I even love the color purple. What's not to love with purple cauliflower?

Everything, apparently. The bitterness could not be overcome. Just bleh. I had never met a cauliflower I didn't like. Until now.

I still have half a head to use, so I'll see if it holds up any better to roasting (mmmmmm.... roasted garlic cauliflower...), but I don't have high hopes. Bummer.

Sensationalistic Journalism Needs to be Exorcised (not a typo)

"Exercise won't make you lose weight," claims the blurb on the cover. The title: "Why Exercise Won't Make You Thin". A few paragraphs in, the author provides this quote: "In general, for weight loss, exercise is pretty useless." In the last paragraph, the author himself boldly proclaims, "[B]e warned: fiery spurts of viorous exercise could lead to weight gain."


Deep breaths.

If you haven't already figured it out, I'm talking about an article in the recent issue of Time, sold with the scandalous phrase "The Myth About Exercise" as the cover headline. I don't subscribe, and I'm happy to report that I didn't spend money on this issue (I stole my roommate's issue). The bad news is that this cover certainly did get peoples' attention; chances are that they sold a ton of issues at the newsstands. People all over the internet are talking about the article. The worst news is that the article is, ultimately, garbage.

There are so many problems with this article that I don't know where to start, and I'm certainly not going to have time (or patience) to address it all. Is the science correct? Surely, but that's not where the problems lie. What frustrates me are the implied conclusions of the article and what misconceptions a great deal of the readership will walk away with.

Minor detour: I'm absolutely flummoxed with paragraph two, where the author claims that he has never been overweight (other than a particular two-year exception) but then confesses that he has gut fat that hangs over his belt when he sits. (Huh?)

Moving on. Apparently we need a six-page article to tell us that we need to watch what we eat whether or not we exercise. True, some people do need to be told that; however, the article never really says that in plain language. Where would be the story in that? Instead, it attacks exercise as a tool for weight loss right and left, speckling in a "but exercise is good for you" here and there, and, ultimately, never gives a solution beyond the general recommendation to watch what you eat.

Again, I can't resist reminding you of that parting shot: "[F]iery spurts of viorous exercise could lead to weight gain." Are you kidding me?

Part of the article addresses "compensatory eating", which is a fancy way of saying that we get hungry after exercise and that leads some people to eat more than they burned. Could the author be bothered to mention little details like how one can, if one is paying attention, refuel from a 2,000 calorie ride or hike with a mere 500 calorie meal or even a 300 calorie run with a 100 calorie snack? Might the author mention how a person who would figuratively die on a 1300 calorie per day diet just might be more able to sustain an 1800 calorie per day diet with exercise? (No, not everyone does better this way, but many of us do.)

Possibly the most egregious tidbit follows: "[S]elf-control is like a muscle: it weakens each day after you use it." Um. Funny. A muscle may weaken the day after it is used, but won't it strengthen after that? Nah, let's not mess with a perfectly awful analogy by bringing reality into the picture.

The article mentions that people are simply not designed to easily avoid eating enough calories to make up for those burned in exercise. Funny how it doesn't mention that people are simply not designed to easily avoid eating enough calories to live. Cutting calories goes against what our bodies demand. Period. It doesn't matter whether or not we exercise; the body wants to maintain equilibrium - or, better yet - save some extra fat for a rainy day. No matter what we do, we have to fight our against our body's survival messages if we want to lose weight. Period.

Here's what angers me most about this article: Imagine the couch potato whose heaviest exercise is climbing a flight of stairs when the elevator is broken. He or she picks up the article and gets what out of it? Yep. He thinks to himself, "Well, that settles it. There's no reason to exercise! Pass me the remote control."

Ten, nine, eight..... Deep breath.

Look, you want to hear why people should turn to exercise for weight loss before cutting calories alone? Because exercise can become a lifestyle. It's healthful and has benefits beyond weight change. We all know about the dangers of yo-yo dieting, but no one has ever warned against the dangers of yo-yo exercising. I don't need to explain why, do I?

Bottom line: Why do doctors want us to lose weight? To be healthier. What would they rather have: An active and healthier moderately overweight person or an inactive and unhealthy person at any weight?

Ah, forget what doctors want. What do you want?
.
ADDENDUM: Runner's World has an excellent response to the Time article here. (Though it doesn't have nearly enough facepalm.)

Oops

I have something interesting to say coming up. I promise. Well, I guess it depends on your definition of "interesting". Mine tends to be a bit broader than some, but I digress.

For now, all I have is a confession: I slept in this morning. It started with a sinister lie. I woke up at 6:03 and decided to pretend that I didn't really wake up. (Huh?!?) Anyway, 6:15 rolled around, then 6:45... then 7:00... then... Well, you get the idea.

I then complained all day long that the day disappeared out from under me. Um, no. I slept an extra three and a half hours away. Clearly I didn't need that extra sleep, or I wouldn't have woken up around six, right? Right.

OK, so it's day number one tomorrow. I will get through seven days. I mean, seriously.

Seven Day Challenge

Quick: What habit do you want to develop (or break) but feels a little overwhelming to do "forever"? You know it takes a month to develop (or break) a new habit, but even that feels like a little too much. Do you think you can do it for a measly seven days? Sure you can! It's only seven days. A mere week. Get a taste for the cost, feel the benefits, and decide whether you can (or even want to) do it for another seven days (or more). And if not? Well, it was only seven days. You can do anything for seven days, right?

Yes, those of you who read my blog a whopping, um, two days ago know exactly where I'm going with this. And, yes, that speech above is a pep talk for myself at least as much as for any of you. So it's official: I'm going to work on my "getting out of bed" habit.

For seven days I will get out of bed within ten minutes of naturally waking. (And not turn around and lay back down.) The one exception I will make is if I wake for some bizarre reason before 6:00 a.m. (I mean, come on. I'm on vacation, right? No need to go totally insane.) The plan is to also get in the habit of checking my morning resting heart rate before getting out of bed. But that's the most painless part of the whole thing.

My seven days will start Wednesday. Why Wednesday? Why not?

Your seven days can start whenever you want. You like the way I pulled you into this? Slick, eh? C'mon, you know you want to join in (even if you're reading this long in the future). Pick your target and pick your start date. What do you want to change for the next week? Use your treadmill (coughCidtalkcough)? Eat breakfast every day? Try a new veggie every day? Cut off the tv for a week?

I'd love to hear about it in the comments, but feel free to do it secretly if you'd rather. Either way, pick a tough goal and join me. I dare you.

Checking In (and Babbling, Apparently)

Nothing interesting to say. I swam yesterday, I biked and ran today. All this despite a general desire to just go back to bed and sleep. I won't chalk it up to depression (though that's a possibility), and I don't think I should blame it on overtraining. I'm certainly not undereating (judging from the recent slight upward swing of the scale, though my fat monitor assures me that I'm building muscle and losing a tiny bit of fat). I'm preparing a nice juicy steak for dinner tonight on the off chance that I'm slightly low on iron. If the steak doesn't do it, then maybe it's time to get a solid blood workup just to make sure that eight and a half months of dieting down isn't leaving me with an unexpected deficiency.

I'm seriously considering taking a solid month off any targeted weight loss, intentionally eating as close to maintenance as possible. (The only difference from the past few months would be that I'm targeting maintenance calories, not just landing there most of the time.)

On the other hand, I wonder about my sleep. Am I sleeping too little? Not very likely. Too much? Possible. I've never been a morning person. I typically get up only when I have to, or when it's so late in the morning that I'd be embarrassed to be caught in bed. I have no qualms about napping (or, ahem, polyphasic sleep) so, again, a lack of sleep is probably not the problem.

I'm seriously considering making the toughest commitment to a challenge I've ever made. For a week, just a week, I hop out of bed the instant I wake up naturally. Sounds easy, right? Yeah, um, not for me. I wonder what effect this would have. Certainly no negative effects. If I could do it. You just don't know how reluctant I've been - my entire life - to ever climb out of bed. (The only exception to this is the delicious joy of climbing out of a sleeping bag and exiting a tent to inhale crisp mountain air at dawn. That's the only exception.)

Just one week. I wonder if I could do it. Rather, I wonder if I would do it.

Promises Kept; Food Diary Not

OK, so I became somewhat productive yesterday. Well, somewhat. I needed a new desktop computer, so I ordered a barebones kit. (I had put together a computer from parts somewhere around the days of the 386/486 - you youngsters just need to know that it was the snazziest thing a couple of decades ago - but haven't done much technical since.) It went together fairly well, but took quite some time. So, that kept me busy.

It also gave me an excuse to revert to oldish food habits. Dunno why, but it seemed to be some sort of weird association between geeky stuff and greasy food. Like overworked IT nerds flock to Doritos and Mountain Dew, I turn to Jack in the Box after certain events. Apparently, putting together a computer is one of them. Odd.

Of course, I'm not exactly back on track today, nutritionally, so I'm considering this a two-day free-day. The scale will certainly taunt me for a while, but it won't make me or break me.

On the bright side of things, two promises were kept. First, I promised the dog that we would go on a run this morning in lieu of yesterday's walk. I know (think) she didn't understand what I said, but I did, so I had to keep that promise despite the siren grip of the comforter. No training plan today. I just headed out for a walking warm-up, a solid run, and then a walking/jogging cool-down. It was sort of refreshing to just run for running's sake; I'm going to have to add it in regularly. (And let us not forget that I do have a 5k in a few weeks, so I'd better get my running feet in gear. I insist on setting a new PR in that race.)

The second promise was my weight lifting promise. Two days a week, Monday and Thursday. Who did I promise that to, anyway? Was that just myself? Hmph. Well, all the better, then. So, despite still futzing with some software that doesn't want to install on the new computer, I made it to the gym. I'm at a weird spot where some of the weights/reps randomly drop. Well, not quite randomly; one thing goes up and another goes down. Today, my lat pull-downs went back up after dropping Monday, but my, um... well, nevermind. I guess nothing really went down, but certain lifts I expected to go up (in either reps or weight) didn't go up.

Since I had wasted daylight with the computer, I hit the gym a bit later and at a busier time than normal. While I normally try to avoid eye contact, preferring instead to imagine a gentler version of the mocking scorn I'm "sure" they really have, I let myself notice a few glances today. Now, I'm certainly not anything that would draw most guys' eyes (yet), but I wonder what a couple of them were thinking today. I didn't sense any amusement or negative vibe at my efforts today. If anything, the few guys that looked my way at all (most were, naturally, in their own worlds), well, they seemed to almost have a look of admiration. I don't know if it was because I didn't have a pair of pink dumbbells in my hand, or if it was because my form isn't as bad as I always fear it is, or maybe they were actually somewhat impressed to see how much I'm lifting.

No, strike that last one. I'm really not lifting that heavy (yet). I do lift heavier than many of the women (but not all), and heavier than many of the older men (it's a hospital gym, after all), but I don't think that I'd be raising any eyebrows of admiration.

I'm going to take it a different way. It's not that they're looking at me differently; it's that I'm getting more sure of myself and more comfortable with myself. You know, I like the feeling. In fact, I'm really starting to like lifting again. I mean, really starting to like it. I might even work it into my schedule more. Try to act a little less surprised, will ya?

Meh.

I know this is no excuse, but I'm just not feeling it today. There are so many options for being productive today. I could go to the school and start organizing my new classroom. I could continue my spring cleaning at home. (Yes, I do know it's Summer. What's your point?) I could probably clean my car.

Regarding more fun and active options... I slept my way past a decent hour to go running (any time after 7:00 and it's just icky hot). I procrastinated my way past a decent hour to go cycling. I could go swimming, but... well... meh.

Maybe I'll take a nice long soak in the tub. That's productive in its own way, right? I mean, relaxation is important. So is reading. I could do both at the same time. That's kinda productive, right?

Yeah, I know. I'm not buying it, either.

I guess I'll just sit here and think about it some more.

Adult Physical Fitness Test - Part II

In January, I discovered and subsequently took the President's Challenge Adult Fitness Test. (You can read my thoughts about the test back then here.) I had planned to retest quartly, but three months went by and I "missed" the deadline. I then thought about three tests a year, and then May 25th came and went. But there's no way I was going to test fewer than twice a year. Even my procrastination has its limits.

So today I retook it. Well, except for the 1.5 mile run. I estimated that time off of my recent 5k race. So, if anything, my time is a little slow. This policy of estimating rather than going out and running 1.5 miles is not likely to change any time soon, so that metric will still be consistent.

On with the show. Here are my results from January and my results from today. Cue the horns!



OK, so let's look at the results. My running, half sit-ups, and sit-and-reach have all improved. That's good. My push-ups have stayed stagnant. That's a little disappointing, but understandable since I actually haven't been doing any push-ups. (Although I haven't been doing any sit-ups or stretching exercises, either.) I had hoped that the related exercises I'm doing would help my push-ups; apparently that's not the case. I'll have to put push-ups into my next strength routine.

I'm somewhat bemused that I get the same response of "Obesity, Very High Risk of Disease" for my body composition for the two BMIs and waist circumferences. You'd think that a difference of 38 pounds and five inches would get a somewhat different response. I mean, I know it's a computer and it's only spitting out data for given input, and it's not like it knows that that was me back then, but you'd think it would have more options for what to spit out at people at various levels. (And, yeah, I know BMI is garbage, but it just would be nice. That's all.)

OK, let's put the weight and belly measurement aside and look back at what matters: fitness.

I've gone from an overall score of the 23rd percentile to the 40th percentile. So, in that hypothetical room of 100 people, I've jumped over 17 people. Hey. That's not too shabby. I've also gone from above average in one area to above average in two areas. That's not too shabby, either.

You know, I think I may feel a little something of the opposite of disappointment in these results. Obama and his six-pack would be proud. You know, if he had time to care.

Swimming Like a Fish. A Slow Fish, Perhaps, but a Fish Nonetheless

As you may or may not know, the crawl and I have been reluctant friends. I grew up on the breaststroke. Wait, even better: the German breaststroke where your face never touches the water (as you see in the wikipedia shot below). I mean, it was good and all. It got me from one side of the pool to the other, but it was certainly never going to be anything I'd do much for exercise.

As a child, I would wail if any water touched my face without me planning on it. Even then, I would tightly hold my nose before getting my face wet. It wasn't until I met a very patient instructor in sixth grade camp before I learned how to blow bubbles and bob under the water while clutching for dear life at the edge of the pool. But that was it. The heads-up breaststroke and bobbing at the edge of the pool. (Yes, I did grow up in San Diego. Why do you ask?)

A few years ago I decided I wanted to learn the crawl. I bought what I'm sure is a good book... designed for improving proficient swimmers. I taught myself what I thought was the crawl. After being told that I looked like I was being electrocuted, I bought a book and DVD on the Total Immersion method and started reteaching myself the crawl from the bottom up. It's been an on-and-off journey (as has nearly everything), but I'm starting to really "get" the crawl.

Yesterday, I crawled 500 yards without a break. Twice. Add in warm-up, cool-down, and interval laps, and it was a swimmer's mile, despite planning on less.

Did you catch that?

No, not the 500 yards nonstop.

But, yes, that was a first-time event.

The other thing.

Yes, intervals!

Ye Gods!

Even better: 50 yard intervals.

Woohoo!

What posessed me? Well, I was noticing that, while my laps were becoming more and more (and more) comfortable, getting to a point where I could almost feel myself falling into a groove, requiring very little conscious thought to complete each stroke, my laps were also becoming slower. I wouldn't really have thought it possible. In the earlier days of "full stroke" crawl swimming, I would hit around a 1:12 per 50-yard pace. My record was something like 1:09 per 50 yards. In fact, attempts to swim faster would backfire, and I would actually go slower.

But now, I was averaging something like 1:16 per 50-yard lap. I was more comfortable, but I was slowing down. I'm sure the one fed into the other, but it wasn't the direction I wanted to go.

Was I getting too comfortable with the crawl? Was I getting, in a way, lazy? There was only one way to find out.

I decided to do a 50 yard "sprint". Actually, I think I had only intended to do a single length, but I continued on to the full lap out of habit.

When I completed the 50 yards, I checked my sportcount and was amazed to see the time. 1:03 and change. Wow. (OK, maybe you wouldn't be excited about shaving off six seconds, but I sure was/am. That's like... wait a minute... carry the one... almost a nine percent reduction in time!)

I caught my breath (something I once had to do in the middle of a length 25-yard crawl) and went on a slow recovery lap. Rinse, lather, repeat. Well, once. That was enough for the first time.

I'm certainly no Dana Torres, but I'm definitely becoming more fish-like. In my thirties. Who woulda thunkit?

A Glimmer of Home in a World of Flatsploitation

I painted a somewhat bleak picture about the (mis)representation of the overweight in television yesterday, so here I am today to post a follow-up.

The glimmer of hope? Lifetime's Drop Dead Diva. (The Style Network's Ruby deserves an honorable mention, and it is on its second season, so there's hope to be found in more than one place.)

To be honest, I looked forward to Drop Dead Diva with a touch of trepidation. Would it do the right thing? Would it delve into shallowness? Would it be misunderstood like Shallow Hal (which, actually, was a fat-positive movie, though most people didn't stop either laughing at the visual gags or scolding the skinny actress portraying the fat girl's "inner beauty" enough to understand that.)

If you are unfamiliar with Drop Dead Diva, let me give you a quick summary of the pilot: Insecure overweight lawyer (Jane) gets fatally shot. Gorgeous and shallow girl (Deb), whose big ambition is to become a Price is Right model, T-bones a fruit truck and dies. Slender Deb manages to escape the afterlife, but ends up in the oversized body of Jane.

I know, right? It soooo could go either way. Well, it could have. The good news is not only is this a good show, but it appears to be great. I waited until the end of the second episode to decide this. (It was the best I could do.)

How much do I love Drop Dead Diva? Enough that I'm going to provide a bulleted list. I know, right? I didn't even do that for my over-long review of my Garmin! Alright, on with the list!

• Brooke Elliott's behaviors change tangibly from playing Jane before and after the soul switcheroo. This is good because it's hitting on the idea that peoples' responses to sizeable women is not always about the size; it's often about the attitude. (I remember an advice columnist once telling an overweight man that the reason he can't find a date is not because he's overweight, but because he acts as if he should apologize for taking up everyone else's air.) Note that this is not sending the message that all fat girls are insecure. From other cast, it's clearly sending the message that insecurity was part of Jane's problem.


• But it's not all about attitude; Jane is sometimes treated differently because of her size/appearance. When Jane goes for research in a bar, looking fairly nice, she's treated "ok", but her hot friend gets a free drink. Her boss treats her like a welcome mat, even when she starts to assert herself. (There's even a bit about how she should think like another overweight woman, well, just because they're both overweight.)


• Jane is brilliant. Is this playing against the stereotype that blonde girls (like Deb was) are ditzy? Not really. It's made very clear that Jane has/had a high I.Q. so, like her insecurity, this is specific to Jane. The same stands about Deb's previous average (or so) intelligence.


• Deb, her svelte figure a thing of the past, finds herself (or Jane's body?) drawn to donuts and chocolate. Hmmm... possible stereotype, but they're covering that a bit with the notion that the body feels comforted in certain places and with certain foods. Since it's been made clear that hormone levels and other body/brain chemistry affects cravings and hunger, it's not outlandish. Beyond that, this is a tv show. Play along and appreciate the thought.


• Stacy, Deb's friend from a previous life (now Jane's friend, of course) tries to help Deb/Jane by helping her lose weight. This, she thinks, will help Deb get her life back. Her clumsy attempts at helping Jane (for example, she changes Jane's drink order to cut calories) are not only a bit funny, but make the viewer sympathize not only with Jane, but with Stacy. We know she means well, but the problem is obvious.


• I'm not sure that Jane will decide to lose weight. I'm pretty sure she won't. This is a good thing.


• Deb/Jane hasn't magically figured everything out (yet). She is sad when she sees herself in the mirror. She is flummoxed by the changes this new body brings. (Comfortable bra, anyone?) She doesn't quite "get it" when people treat her differently or, ironically enough, when she finds herself treating an overweight woman with a little bit of improper judgement. She's torn and mixed up, but she's learning.

I'll admit that I was a little taken aback by one particular moment in the pilot. Deb/Jane is with her guardian angel, Fred (played by Ben Feldman who reminds me more than a little of Chachi), and she asks him to make her skinny and hot. (I'm paraphrasing.) Fred responds that he's not a miracle worker. I wanted him to say something else. Something more like, "I can't make you skinny, but hot is a lot closer than you think." Or something like that. I'm not a script writer.

But I think that's part of the journey that Deb is on. She's got to figure that out for herself. Let me tell you: Brooke Elliott, the leading lady in this show, already knows that she's hot. Her character still needs to figure that out.

Let me make that clear. Jane isn't a woman who's unattractive because she's fat. She's unattractive for all the right reasons: poor styling, poor attitude, poor self-image. Let's compare Brooke Elliott in and out of character. (It should be fairly obvious which is which, but I'll tell you anyway that Jane is the top photo.)



Photo credits: The-F-Word (who, by the way, gets it wrong by bashing the show long before it actually aired) and access hollywood.

Sure, the show may be sappy tripe at times but, for the most part, it gets it right. This makes me happy.

Fatsploitation

I recall an old episode of E.R. It's probably the only episode I can remember anything about. An illness was spreading through the hospital and it was hard to pin down. They finally realized that it was a staff member who was not washing his or her hands after using the restroom. Now it was just a matter of discovering the lazy, unclean idiot.

Please don't let it be the fat guy, I remember thinking. Don't do it, I silently pleaded. You see, I knew about the stereotype.

Sure enough, it was the fat guy. Of course. Because, according to the world of television, overweight characters are lazy, unintelligent, or both. (Or worse.) Look around and you'll see the stereotype played out time and time again. It's awful, and it reinforces itself. Fat characters are, the majority of the time, hapless fools or idiots, and often slovenly and lazy. One noteable exception was Camryn Manheim of The Practice... but she had to challenge the producer to a game of chess for the right to be cast despite her weight. (She later won an Emmy for that role, for what it's worth.)

This is not my imagination. If you're interested, you can read more at pubmed. Though there are exceptions, it appears that television is not improving much in this area, and it continues to reinforce those stereotypes. It's nearly impossible to find an overweight character not cast in a role of a socially inept fool with a poor work ethic.

Worse yet, producers appear to be more brazen as they create television shows which actively exploit the overweight. The Biggest Loser is, thankfully, an exception. But, wait, is it? Do you get the word play in the title? Even the winner is, surprise surprise, a loser. Deep down in my gut, I feel that the show would have, indeed, exploited the contestants if it weren't for the good, strong hearts of Bob and Jillian, the trainers who succeeded in making it a - for the most part - positive show.

I've already talked about my fears with More to Love here. My suspicions have yet to be confirmed there, but I can see unabashed fatsploitation on Oxygen with Dance Your Ass Off. In fact, ironically enough, I had high hopes for that show. I imagined a show of empowerment and positivity. I even played along until I saw them dance on the first episode.

Every outfit, or nearly every outfit, for the overweight dancers had an exposed belly. Seriously? Just in case we missed the "grotesqueness" of it all, the episode was titled "Shake and Rattle Those Rolls". Seriously? Seriously. My hopes at a positive show of overweight people meeting physical challenges were dashed. Here are a couple of examples:



(Photo credit obvious, but here's another link.)

Just try and tell me that the folk in wardrobe weren't told to purposely make these women look worse. I mean, I agree that overweight people can be (are) beautiful, but they - like everyone else! - need to dress properly for their bodies. There's no way they couldn't have dressed either of these women better. Instead of putting them in flattering outfits, they dressed them to make a point: "See how obscene these fatties are? Isn't it gross?"

Well, yes. The outfits are gross. But they are't.

Subsequent episodes haven't gotten much better. The third episode involved a stripper pole. Um, yeah. Real subtle.

Joel McHale, on The Soup, said it well: "Dance Your Ass Off continues to be the biggest exploitation of overweight people since they started putting cookie dough in ice cream." Let's face it: If The Soup is calling something exploitative... Well, that's saying something, isn't it?

Let me leave you with this: There is good news out there in tv land. But it will wait until tomorrow. I've babbled long enough for one day.

Uphill Against the Wind... Both Ways!

If you ride, you've surely noticed that the first five minutes of any ride can be some of the most difficult. You struggle until your body loosens up, the endorphins start to kick in, and you find your groove. That difficulty happened today. Only it wasn't for the first five minutes; it was for the whole hour and a half.

What a hard ride! Yeah, it was hot, and yeah, there were some hills, but nothing I haven't tackled regularly. I was slow, and I was weak. I know it's impossible, but it sure felt like I was pushing uphill and against a headwind both ways. I finished the ride, but I seriously thought about sitting down at the side of the road and pretending I had a flat. (Come to think of it, I should have been able to easily avoid that glass I rode through. I wonder if that was my subconscious trying to create a flat.)

Anyway, I finished, and I (sort of) enjoyed the scenery despite the weakness. Sorry I didn't take any pictures. Really, today's ride reminded me of why I love Reno and have developed a "meh" feeling towards San Diego. The overdeveloped city down by the overpopulated seaside can't hold a candle to the Reno area's beautiful fields and untouched mountain ranges.

About an hour into my ride, I finally hit upon the reason for my weakness. (At least what I believe to be the reason.) I gave blood on Tuesday. I didn't recover quickly the last time I gave blood, so I was planning on waiting until winter to give again, but they called and claimed to be low on my blood type. I really had to think long and hard before agreeing to go in and donate. But I gave in, I gave, and - so they claim - I saved three lives. I guess that's worth it. No, I know that's worth it. It's not like I have sponsors counting on my performance, so if I can do good I should. But hear me now, United Blood Services: I sure as heck won't be donating right before any event, so plan your phone calls carefully! (Please.)