A Dumbbell In A Home Gym

Holding Down the Fort.

Me, my husband's pants, and lots and lots of snow last Sunday. It's almost scarily comfortable to flop on your back in the snow after walking through the stuff for an hour.

Hello, hello. Sorry for the slow updating. Between the Olympics and our really wonky Internet connection, I haven't been online all that much.

Anyhow.

Dear USA Network: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for scheduling your "Olympic Ice" show at 6 pm every night. It gives me the perfect reason to go down to the basement and get on the treadmill early in the evening, just like I'd wanted to do. I get so engrossed in the show that those treadmill minutes just whiz by. And my husband isn't forced to sit around listening to figure skating talk, so everyone's a winner! Any chance you'll keep running the show after the Olympics are over? Awww, c'mon. Please?

Oh, fine. Be that way.

So the word for last week was "Maintenance." Okay, we're having a totally shit week so let's lighten up and stop with the stressing about eating, I told myself. Just try not to regain.

The word for this week is "Feh." I did in fact maintain rather than gain, but I'm tired of being in the 180s. Boo 180s. No more 80s, dammit. Seventies or bust!

Another word for the week is "Pilates." I got into it briefly last year, but it ended up dropping way down on my priority list after I got my bike. All of a sudden, I'm very interested in it again. (It's probably all the figure skating. A lot of the skaters talk up Pilates.)

If you're even remotely interested in trying it yourself, here are a few recommendations that you might like to check out.

1. Pilates Workout for Dummies. I really swear by the "Dummies" series, both in books and in DVDs. (Yes, yes -- target audience and all that. Har har. Quiet, you.) And I do like this DVD, with one caveat: Watch it all the way through at least once before doing the workout. Why? Because aside from the fact that it's a good thing to do in general, the instructor frequently doesn't offer the modified versions of the moves until she's about halfway through the set of the standard moves.

2. The 10-Minute Solution: Pilates. This one' s interesting. It features five ten-minute workouts broken down into target areas or concepts (i.e. abs, flexibility, upper body, etc.). I've only done the abs workout so far. It is short, but utterly brutal. I had to improvise or sit out a couple of moves that I just couldn't handle yet. If you are Krista from Stumptuous, do not watch the "Sculpting" workout because your head will explode. The instructor starts off by telling you to use very light dumbbells -- no more than two or three pounds! -- because we don't want to get BIG, we just want to tone. (The idea that women will or even can build bodies like pro wrestlers if they dare use anything more than the daintiest of pink dumbbells is a particular pet peeve over at Stumptuous.)

3. Here's one of my childhood trauma stories: Back when I was a very young dumbbell attending a snooty private school, two girls in the grade above mine decided it would be a laugh riot to follow me around the halls chirping "Posture! Posture, posture!" whenever they saw me. I guess I was too slouchy for them. Or maybe they were just annoying bitches. Whatever. So when someone starts carrying on about "Posture!", I want to go on an insane face-punching rampage.

Brooke Siler seems like a very nice, well-meaning lady and I like a lot of "Your Ultimate Pilates Body Challenge". (Oh dear -- check out the first review from "Jack Hoff" before someone from Amazon nukes it.) But she goes on about posture. A lot. Yeah, I get that it's important. But some days I'm doing well if I'm putting one foot in front of the other without tripping and falling flat on my face; I can't be thinking about pulling in my abs, expanding my ribs, walking like I've got a book on my head, or any of that. I'll try, but I'm not promising anything.

However, the book is a good backup to the DVDs because she really does explain every move in a lot of detail, and it's helped me a lot. I can't say that I was too taken with the "Pilates on the treadmill" workout she devised, though.

So that's what I've been up to lately, in between bouts of watching the Olympics and playing in the snow. Hope everyone's well.

Kickboxing Kick.

First of all, an off-topic complaint:

Dear Sixapart: Do you know what it does to me when my stats are disabled ALL DAY? Do you? DO YOU? Why must you torment me so? I thought you loved me. You are killing me. I need my ego food. I haven't been stuffing my face with random cookies lately, and now you deny me my stats? Just how much more must I take?

Desperately and hungrily yours,
Stats Whore

Ahem.

Anyhow, I mentioned a few entries ago that I'd picked up a cardio kickboxing DVD. It's this one. I bought it off the shelf at Borders without knowing a thing about it. If I'd seen the poopy reviews on Amazon, I might not have bothered. I didn't have any technical problems with the DVD and I couldn't give a rat's ass about the computer-only bikini body workout (please -- my bikini days are ovah no matter how thin I get), so that's something.

Somehow, I think that everything I need to say about this DVD is summed up in the following sequence: As the workout draws to a close, Jillian goes around congratulating all her backup kickboxers and slappin' palms with them because it's over and they all survived. Yay them. One of the other women apparently says "Is that all?" (though I didn't hear her), and Jillian immediately gets all "OMG! I can't believe you said that! I totally Can't. Believe. It! Just for that we're doing more jumping jacks and more jump-roping and TEN PUSHUPS just because of you! OMG! OMG! I TOTALLY CAN'T BELIEVE you said that!", and after what seems like about ten more minutes of Jillian totally disbelieving that the girl said that, OMG, OMG, we finally get to the damn jumping jacks, jump-roping and pushups. Strangely enough, the throbbing quasi-porno soundtrack that's been playing for the entire workout finally comes to an end just as Jillian finishes the last round of exercise that she "spontaneously" threw in there because of the smartassed assistant. Huh.  
 
I shared all that because by the end of that workout, I pretty much agreed with the smartass. I am by no means the aerobics champion of the world and I am a newbie to kickboxing, and even so, I didn't find the workout that difficult at all. Challenging? Yes. I worked up a sweat. But Jillian starts off the workout by making it sound as if even the modified version is going to leave you rolled up in a ball on the floor crying for mommy by the halfway point. Nope. If you've built up a good solid base of regular cardio work, you should be able to keep up.   

I did devise a couple of my own modifications. I did not do the squat-jump move because that kills my knees (fortunately there's only one round of those anyhow), and I didn't do jumping jacks because I hate doing them and you can't make me, so nyah. I did the "jump rope" move instead. I liked the invisible jump rope. Even I can't trip myself up on one of those!

I also felt that the Sharon Mann kickbox workout I did along with FitTV the one night seemed a lot more "kickboxy", if that makes any sense. It might not. I just started this stuff. I have no idea what counts as good kickboxing and what doesn't. But my arms were killing me the day after I did the FitTV workout. I had slightly sore thighs this afternoon after doing the Jillian DVD yesterday, but that's about it.

Speaking of Sharon Mann, I saw something on one of her programs the other night that really drove home why I'm drawn to that show. I always say that I like it when shows feature overweight exercisers because I get that warm fuzzy "Awww ... she included people like me!" feeling.

But then I saw the assistant exerciser who really *is* the most like me. They were doing some kind of step aerobics (which I hate with a passion, so I was just watching this one rather than following along), and this woman was hopelessly lost. Just out of it. She was always at least two steps behind everyone else. If everyone else zagged, she zigged. Everyone else would be hopping off the step just as she'd be clambering up. It was hysterically funny, both because I rarely see stuff like that in these shows and because that? Is totally me and what I'd look like if someone kidnapped me and forced me to appear in one of these videos. In the privacy of my basement, nobody can see how hopelessly uncoordinated I am.

On The Internet, Everybody Can Hear You Talking About Them.

Up there is a shot my husband took of me goofing around today. We went for a walk in a nearby park that has a few really nice trails. They don't allow bikes, alas, but all the paths are well-marked and not too strenuous, though you can make them strenuous by picking the hillier parts of the trail.

And I'm very happy with the picture. My mom complains about me wearing a lot of black clothes, but dammit, black is flattering. Tell me it's not.

Anyhow. A few days ago I posted that little "Waaah! Everyone's getting free Dannon yogurt and I'm not!" whinefest.

Imagine my surprise when I checked my email a couple of days later and found an email from the very person who's been sending it out. She'd seen my little tantrum; she very graciously offered to send me some yogurt samples of my very own. Heh. Boy, did I feel silly. But not silly enough to turn down the yogurt.

So I got a box of the Dannon Light & Fit made with Splenda this weekend. And it's good. I particularly liked the strawberry-banana, which had actual fruit in it; the raspberry flavor was a wee bit too sweet and artificial for me. If I eat it for a snack I'll probably pair it with some fruit or a handful of nuts; the yogurt is 60 calories a cup, which isn't going to blow anyone's diet plan but wouldn't hold me for very long.

I've been thinking about calories again lately because my weight loss has slowed down a good bit and I'm starting to wonder if it's time to nudge my daily intake down. This hasn't been the best overall month in terms of my diet and exercise anyhow, so maybe after a couple of solid weeks of eating better and exercising more regularly, things will get back to normal. We'll see.

And maybe it's not a question of eating less, but of exercising a little more. I was looking through some fitness DVDs at Borders on Friday night and grousing to myself that they seemed to be short on beginner workouts. And then it occurred to me: You know, I've been at this fitness thing for more than a year now. I'm really not a beginner anymore. I've been trying out some of the "Shape with Sharon Mann" workouts on FitTV at nights, and I've been doing a respectable job of keeping up with the normal, unmodified moves. And really, why wouldn't I? I'm no expert yet, but after a year of steady cardio and strength training and yoga I've certainly got a decent base of fitness built up.

So. At what point do I stop babying myself and start upping the ante? I bought myself a cardio kickboxing DVD with a fitness grrl making a particularly ferocious "Get ready for me to kick your sorry ass" face on the cover. (I tried cardio boxing with Sharon Mann last week and couldn't believe how sore my arms were the next day. It was fun; a nice change of pace.) I'll try to do a complete workout and not die this week. "Not dying" is always a good goal. So is "complete workout."

Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired.

The stomach upset has long since passed, but I've been feeling horribly weak and tired for the last couple of days. I can't tell you how unbelievably frustrating this is. On Saturday I did a very simple, very slow 20-minute walk on the treadmill followed by a super-easy yoga DVD. That was enough to completely wipe me out for the rest of the day. It is unseasonably warm and gorgeous out today and I'd love to hit the trail for a walk or a bike ride, but I don't dare. Not if a wimpy treadmill walk was enough to knock me out yesterday.

I hate this. At a time when I really wanted to start upping the ante in my workouts, I'm finding myself scrambling to catch up instead. I feel like my muscles are melting. I've had some dark thoughts lately -- "Is this it? Is this how my mojo's going to desert me? Is this the part when Nicole finally turns back to the Dark Side and starts eating like a pig and living on the couch again?" -- but no. I'll get back to where I was.

(And the eating hasn't been bad. Even without tracking my calories, I've found I'm not going over what I'd probably eat on an average day whenever I do a spot-check in FitDay.)

To keep this entry from becoming a total whineorama, here are a few things I've discovered that you might like:

--Eating Mindfully, by Susan Albers. One of the biggest struggles I've faced in the past year has been trying to clear my mind of all the old negative thought patterns regarding food and eating, and I imagine a heck of a lot of you are in the same boat.

I don't agree with everything in this book. One of her tips is to avoid caffeine; that ain't happening, sports fans. To steal from that Meat Loaf song, "I would do anything for my body -- but I won't do that!" She's also an advocate of "No dieting ever again," which I also reject; I don't hate myself or find myself loathsome anymore (most days), but I'm still obese and that's absolutely not acceptable to me. I no longer harbor any delusions of being a size 2, but I do want to be at a healthy, sustainable weight. I do not believe that 180-something is it.

But the book does a great job of explaining and reinforcing a lot of what I've tried to do: trying to stop judging oneself relentlessly over every morsel of food; trying to really pay attention to how you feel during and after a meal; trying to openly address your feelings instead of whacking them away with a baseball bat or smothering them in Tostitos and CheezyGoo, and working hard to change that internal soundtrack that constantly tells you you're a fat pig. It's worth a read, I think. (One caveat: It is based heavily on Buddhist teachings; if that bothers you, this probably isn't a good choice for you.)

--Dance Dance Revolution! After trying the video dance machine at Dave and Buster's on my birthday, I tracked down a game for the Xbox and bought it for myself as a belated Christmas present. If you've never played, the game comes with a giant pad festooned with arrows; you hop on the pad and try to match your steps to the arrow cues on the screen. Hilarity ensues. The game has enough older songs (like "Rock Lobster" and "Whip It") to keep an aging Generation X-er like myself happy. I still suck rocks at any level other than "Klutzy Beginner," but it's a fun way to get my heart rate up a little.

Funnier still, my husband, who could not be forced onto a real dance floor with a rocket launcher, likes it too. Before we both got sick, we were playing at least two sessions a day. He gets grumpy when I tease him about liking dancing ("It's JUST a game!"), but I'm sure that by the end of the year we'll be hitting all the local dance spots and putting Uma Thurman and John Travolta to shame. Yup.

I'd never use this as my only form of exercise, but I've been thinking that it might be just the ticket to get me down into the basement on nights when it's cold and I'm lazy and I just don't wanna move.

--If you're looking for a good new read, go visit Kristin. I find myself nodding vigorously at every new entry of hers. (Particularly this one.)

Cool Things.

Another recommendation: The Ultimate Workout Log. I bought my first copy earlier this year, and hard as it is to believe, I finished it last week. (Okay, full disclosure -- I was better about logging every workout in the beginning, and not so much with the diligence by the end.) Luckily, my mom got me a new one as a birthday present this weekend.

I like how the days are organized; there are spaces in each day for cardio, strength training, "mind-body" (aka yoga and Pilates), a space for nutrition notes, and a box for your overall thoughts on the day. There's also a place on the inside front cover where you can list your goals for the next six months, and it was a kick to look over that and remind myself of how far I've come even if I didn't meet every specific goal I listed back in the spring.

I was going to save the new book until January and then told myself I was being stupid. Just what's so special about January anyhow? There's no time like the present to get my act together and start logging my workouts more carefully again.

Especially because I got a big surprise tonight. I wasn't going to weigh myself for a few days to allow all the birthday decadence a chance to work itself through my system. But when I put on my exercise clothes I noticed that my shorts felt even bigger and baggier than usual. What the hell, I figured -- I'd go step on the scale and see where things were.

191.5. Whoa. This might not hold over the next few days -- my body loves taunting me with a really low number only to bounce up a couple of pounds -- but I'll take it.

Okay, It's Love.

This morning I took my Enell out for a bike ride.

I was going to do it yesterday, but for some reason the bra felt unpleasantly tight around my ribs when I put it on. And honesty time -- I'd read this entry by the ever-amusing Pamie while googling around about Enells, and I really didn't want to lose a perfectly good Friday morning bike ride by having my bra suddenly come to life and crush all the air out of my lungs while I was out on the trail. So I wussed out and put on my old saggy Target sports bra.

But today I hooked myself in (which I'm still finding kind of annoying) and headed out. And I liked it. A lot. I never thought of cycling as a particularly bouncilicious activity unless I'm going over a particularly bumpy part of the trail, but I felt somehow more compact and streamlined. And supported. My back felt much stronger; I guess I didn't even consider the strain that my breasts might be putting on my back when I'm bending forward on my bike. Overall, I think I'd gotten so accustomed to the minor discomfort caused by my breasts that I barely thought about it until I got a bra that helped eliminate it.

So yes; I do believe that the Enell is officially Worth It.

And that's probably enough talk about sports bras for now, eh?

So we're having a scale crisis here. The digital scale I've been using since I first started weighing myself has died. I guess the battery crapped out, and we just don't want to brave the insane crowds in Target on a weekend to get a replacement battery.

That leaves Goofy Blowfish Scale, which has lived up to its nickname and then some. One morning last week I stepped on it and got a reading of 192. I almost did a jig of joy, but then I hopped back on to double-check the number.

201.

Yes, I gained nine pounds in the space of ten seconds. Cool, huh? Call Guinness -- it's a world record!

Stuff like this really does underscore the silliness of allowing the scale to be the last word in my weight loss progress. It's a reasonable progress tool, but I just shouldn't give it the almighty importance that I sometimes do. The overall trend is downward. And my fitness is really improving. That's what matters.

(Don't) Bounce Your Boobies.

What a surprise -- two Enell sports bras were waiting on my doorstep last night. If you haven't heard of them, Enell bras have an online reputation as being the ultimate answer to the chesty athletic girl's prayers.

Their appearance last night was surprising because I ordered the damn things back in the beginning of June when the site promised a wait of a mere ten weeks. I'd all but forgotten about them. (Oprah Winfrey apparently endorses these things fairly often, which brings everything to a virtual standstill as the company tries to meet the ginormous demand.) I was a little grumpy as I opened the package, figuring that I'd ordered the bras to fit my measurements five months ago and they'd probably be too damn big now.

Apparently, I was smoking some really good dope of the "I think I inhabit a much smaller body than I really do" variety when I selected the sizes. I actually ordered two different sizes, reasoning that I'd continue shrinking and it'd be nice to have a second bra ready to go when the time came to downgrade, instead of having to wait another ten weeks (such an optimist I was!). So I figured that the larger size I'd ordered would be too big now and maybe I could return it or sell it on eBay. Maybe by now they'd even have brought back the fun purple color and I could exchange the black bra I had for a happy purple one.

Nope. The bigger bra fits now; the smaller bra's band is painfully tight around my ribcage. Oh well. I guess it's going to work out as I'd originally planned. And the sports bra I bought from Target a while ago is stretchy and saggy now anyhow, so all in all this was good timing.

So is the Enell indeed all that and a bag of breast-immobilizing chips?

Yeah, pretty much. But man, is it ever a pain to put on. (One helpful hint: IT HOOKS IN THE FRONT. Do not hook it up your back. Do not hook it up in front and twist the hooks around to your back. That's too strenuous, a workout in itself, and you will look and feel really stupid when you realize what you did wrong, plus you'll nearly dislocate a shoulder doing all those stupid things and then trying to undo them. Don't ask me how I missed the whole "Hook it up the front" part. I have a knack for making simple procedures insanely complicated.) Now, I'm not unaccustomed to lingerie that takes a lot of bother to wear. I've got a PVC corset and I know how to use it. Even so, doing up all the hooks and pulling and pushing my boobs hither and yon per the instructions in the package started bugging me. Yes, the bra actually comes with instructions -- a first in my experience. I want a minimal amount of fuss when I'm getting ready to work out. The Enell is flirting with "More than a minimal amount of fuss" status. Maybe it gets easier with practice.

And it bears more than a passing resemblance to the hated "Twin Showercaps of Shame" plus-sized bras of my recent past, the ones with the enormous watermelon-sized cups and the hundreds of hooks. Just looking at myself in my new Enell made me shudder a little with the unwelcome nostalgia.

But once I had it on, I gave it a test jiggle with a brisk rendition of Week 1 of the Couch to 5K jogging program on the treadmill. And my breasts did not go airborne or start creeping out the sides of my bra. I didn't have to reach down and do any quick boobage adjustments as I often had to do in my old bra. (And I didn't miss that a bit.) In fact, things were so still south of my neck that it was almost a little unsettling. I guess I didn't realize just how used I'd gotten to that steady, rhythmic, almost hypnotic chest bounce as I'd trot along.

I'll be curious to see how I fare with the Enell on my bike ride tomorrow morning. (We have the day off -- whee for a Friday bike ride!)