A Dumbbell In A Home Gym

Weighty Matters.

I've been spending the new year reading several fitness and diet-related books. Just reading about these things helps keep me focused and motivated. Of course, actually moving my body helps even more.

One of my recent purchases was The New Rules of Lifting For Women. I'd really been slacking off on my strength training (along with everything else, alas) by the end of last year, and I wanted a good, focused program to help me get back on track.

The subtitle "Lift Like A Man; Look Like A Goddess" might have irked me a little at first, but I get the underlying idea here: Too many women are conditioned to believe that if they lift anything over five pounds, they'll end up looking like Hulk Hogan. If only it were that easy to build muscle, particularly for women. If the author had his way, we'd all purge the words "tone" and "sculpt" from our vocabularies (a sentiment I think I've seen over on Stumptuous as well) and start getting used to hefting heavier dumbbells and barbells. It's hard work. Anything worth doing usually is.

His program is broken down into several stages and subworkouts; I did Workout A of Stage 1 on Sunday. Three days later, my abs are still killing me. And it's all due to the evil, evil "Prone Jackknife" move. I should have known that one was going to be trouble; the book recommended 15 reps of all the other exercises in Workout A, but only eight for the dreaded Jackknife. It doesn't *look* that bad in the video -- indeed, nothing in Workout A looked all that forbidding -- but I was one sore puppy for the next couple of days.

One of the nicest things about the workout? I was able to do it at home thanks to the dumbbells, barbells, mats, bands, and Swiss balls we've accumulated over the years. Naturally, it's optimal to do the workouts at gyms where you'll have a wider range of weights and equipment to use, but most of the exercises can be done at home.

And you know what? It was fun. I kinda missed my friendly little basement gym. It may not have all the fancy machines and weights and stuff, but on the other hand I don't have to wait for equipment, or wipe someone else's sweat off a bench I want to use (ewwww!).

That being said, I'm looking forward to trying Workout B at the rec center tomorrow night. I really do like the way I feel when I'm lifting weights; one of my goals is to see this program through to the end.

Dresses and Jean Blues.

Here's the Little Black Dress I mentioned. Although I already had a wedding outfit in mind, I popped into Dress Barn the Friday before we were due to leave. And there it was. It fit, and it wasn't even terribly expensive. I've seen some other photos from the wedding and noticed that the dress has a real "Hi, I'm Nicole and here are my boobs!" effect, but ... eh, the heck with it. I didn't hear any complaints.

And yes, it's sleeveless. My upper arms are far and away my least favorite body part, but that day? It was way too hot and humid for me to give a damn. And the wedding was outdoors. I brought a wrap, but the wrap sat forgotten for most of the evening. I felt terrible for the people who'd bought long-sleeved dresses in the reasonable but ultimately incorrect belief that October would be kinda chilly.

The picture doesn't really do the dress justice; there's a sort of satiny black waistband running around the middle and a glittery circle pin and a bow in the middle. Black on black doesn't show up well on film, I guess.

So here's a new one. Tonight I was at the rec center. (That's not the "new" part, smartass.) While I was over using the weights, one of the guys who works at the center came over and told a nearby kid that he couldn't work out wearing the blue jeans he had on; he had to wear "athletic clothing." This set off quite the series of events. The kid went over to tell his dad, who was on an elliptical trainer. The dad stopped ellipticizing, walked over to the employee, and pretty clearly said something like "Whaddaya mean, my kid can't work out in jeans?" I couldn't hear the employee's reply, but Dad ended up chewing out his kid so loudly that I could hear it from across the gym. Geez. The poor kid should've just stayed home and blown up monsters on the Xbox.

But anyhow, am I missing something? I'd think that working out in jeans would suck for many different reasons (the heaviness and moisture factors, seams digging into tender places during certain moves, etc.), but why would there be actual rules against it? I've seen people at the rec center work out in the damnedest clothes; I even saw one guy running on the treadmill in what had to be Casual Friday work finery (including loafers). It strikes me as uncomfortable and kinda gross, but against the rules?

So that's what distracts me when I'm sweating it out on the assisted pullup machine. Happy weekend, everyone.

(Not) Born To Run.

Over the last couple of years, I've occasionally tried to turn myself into a jogger. (I'd say "runner," but I don't do anything that remotely resembles running. I've seen people who walk faster than I "run".) I don't know why I want to do this, exactly. I've seen people get really hooked on running, to the point that they get cranky if they don't run, and I've heard about the bliss some runners feel when they're really in the groove. And, y'know, it's exercise and good for fat-burning and all that. I guess I wanted to see if I could get some of that bliss for myself.

So far, it's been hard work. With the onset of somewhat cooler fall weather, I've been going out on Saturday mornings and trying my hand at a semi-Couch to 5K Week One program.

While I can do this on the treadmill very easily, running outside is an entirely different proposition, and by "entirely diffferent" I mean "Ohmigod, how the hell do people do this every day!?" Couch to 5K becomes Couch to That-fencepost-up-there-if-I-don't-die-first. I certainly get that pavement is much harder on my legs than the treadmill belt is and makes jogging harder, but the breathing is tougher too, especially if there's even a drop of humidity in the air. I see people jogging by me looking serene and not at all as if they're going to collapse at any second, and my hat would be off to them if I wore one while I was out not-running. I don't know how they do it.

I'm still trying, though. If nothing else, it's nice to get out on the trail on a crisp fall morning. However, I think I'm going to be one of those people who's more likely to go into some blissful Zen state when I'm on my bike. That's okay, too.

Well, Phooey.

It seems as if just a couple of weeks ago at the most, I was writing this cheerful entry.

And today we visited the community pool for the last time this summer. Already. Damn.

I didn't get nearly enough time there this year; we had a spate of weekends that were either too cool or too stormy for a pool visit, and I didn't go much on weeknights because the pool was invariably taken up with swimming lessons or swim team practice. It seems I'm not going to get away from the swim teams or classes hogging the pools unless we get our own pool, and since our backyard is the size of a postage stamp, that ain't happening. Oh well.

You cannot accuse me of slacking off on the exercise this weekend. I got the afternoon off on Friday and promptly hopped on the subway to ride back to my old DC haunts and walk around Georgetown. I logged about 13,000 steps according to my pedometer.

Saturday morning was too cool to go swimming, so we went on the first bike ride I've been on in ages.

Man. Oh, man. That was painful. But it's something I really needed. As I was chugging along sucking wind and feeling my thighs burn, a voice in my head spoke up: "There's no faking it on the bike. If you get on this thing, you better be ready to work."

And for me, it's true. I suppose that for people who ride hundreds of miles in a weekend, they could do an "easy" 50-miler. I guess I could find a ride that's all downhill ... but then I'd have to ride all uphill on the way home. Which is pretty much what I do anyhow; I never realized until I got the bike that our house is at the highest point of our development. And boy, do I feel it when I'm churning my way home after a long ride.

I can half-ass it at the gym; I can lift weights I know are way too light, or I can just sit on the stationary bike with the difficulty set to the lowest level. As for swimming, I can cut the laps short, or just splash around and do handstands.

But I can't goof off on the bike; even when I'm doing a relatively easy ride on a mostly-flat part of our trail, I can really feel myself working. And again, there's that whole "The way home is uphill" thing.

Anyhow, we went to the rec center and lifted weights on Sunday, and this morning we went on another arduous, ass-kicking bike ride; by the end of it I was so exhausted that it took me two tries to raise my foot high enough to put the kickstand down.

And then we went to the pool this afternoon. I didn't do any real lap swimming, but I "jogged" up and down the length of the pool several times. Because I was determined to have some fun, I also went off the diving board, did handstands, and then simply floated on my back for a little while, enjoying the sun warming my poor sore body while the water buoyed me up.

I still smell like sunscreen and chlorine. I'm going to miss that smell. May 2008 seems like a long, long way off from here.

He's Lucky He's Cute ...

Because Oz, our latest arrival, has developed an annoying habit that's not at all conducive to my treadmill workouts.

Like many cats, Oz finds his humans endlessly fascinating, so he follows me into the basement whenever I'm getting ready to hop on the treadmill.

Also like many cats, Oz is inexorably drawn to the most expensive and/or fragile items in the house. So right around the time that I'm all warmed up and about to start jogging, Oz decides to hop up and start walking around on the very expensive, very spiffy digital photo printer my husband bought a few weeks ago. The printer itself is big and fairly sturdy, but Oz has been known to perch on the paper tray, which was not at all meant to support an eleven-pound cat. Yelling at him does nothing other than elicit a bored glance (if that), so I have to pause the treadmill, go shoo him away, and then restart the jogging.

No, our basement does not have a door. If I'd known back when we were househunting that this would be such an issue one day, I think I'd have insisted we keep looking.

Grrrr.

Anyhow, in the comments on the previous entry Nina asked how Couch to 5K is working out for me, as she's interested in starting it herself. The quick answer: So far, so good. It's always a nice way to ease myself back into a regular exercise program when I've been slacking.

Here's the thing, though: I've never gotten all the way through the program, and the funny thing is that I don't really want to. What I really enjoy are the weeks in the middle of the program, when you're alternating bursts of jogging and walking. Dividing the treadmill time up into neat little portions makes it all go faster, and varying the intensity of the workout is supposed to be a good thing anyhow.

I'm also a treadmill-only jogger; the few times I've attempted it outside, I've absolutely hated it. If I'm out on a trail, I'd rather be walking or biking.

However, I know that some of my readers have completed the whole program, so if you've got any advice or comments to share, please do.

And happy weekend, all!

Ow! Ouch! Oof! Ow! OWW!

Oh, don't mind me. That was just the sound of me walking down the halls this morning.

Last night, I celebrated my return to the land of the reasonably healthy with a trip to the rec center. Because I had been out of the exercise game for more than a week and was still experiencing some residual sniffles, I decided to eschew the weights and just do about 25 minutes on the elliptical trainer, followed by a yoga program over on the mats. (I've long since memorized Rodney Yee's AM Yoga sequence, and I like to do it even when it's not technically the AM. It's a wonderful way to stretch after cardio.)

The elliptical trainer may have been a tactical error from a "taking it easy" perspective. My thighs were in serious pain this morning. My arms were achy too, but since I don't walk on my arms, this wasn't as big of an issue.

I just don't know about the elliptical trainer. It really feels like it's giving me an incredible workout judging from my head-to-toe soreness today, but I think I want to like it more than I actually do.

So I'm back. Trying to get into the swing of eating good food and exercising regularly. Again. What else is new?

Tonight I saw something that made me laugh really hard: We were driving down a side street and saw a kid sitting under a tree playing with a Nintendo DS or a PSP or some sort of handheld electronic thingamawhatchit.

I could almost guess what probably happened: The kid's mom yelled at him for sitting inside on such a nice day and told him to play outside for a while. And play outside, he did. Hee.

We Did It.

So we finally took the plunge and plunked down the membership fee for a full year at the local rec center. We'd gone there several times at different times of the day just to see how crazy it gets -- I sure as hell didn't want to shell out the membership fee if we were never going to be able to use the pool. Not a problem, it turns out. Though space in the lap pool can get a little scarce on weeknights and we sometimes have to share a lane, we've still been able to swim whenever we wanted. Once we were convinced that we'd really do this often enough to make the fee worth it, we decided to join.

Having access to a pool again is great. And I like the fitness center too. Want to know something weird? I really love the leg press machine. Go figure. I don't know why, but I think it's fun. (The jury is still out on the elliptical trainer.) And it's a good thing indeed that I've gotten over this whole "Fear of looking like an idiot in public" thing. Between trying to balance on one foot while taking off my clothes around other people in the locker room and lying on my stomach with my ass hiked up in the air when I'm using the leg curl machine, I've looked idiotic in public an awful lot lately.

My favorite feature of the center has to be the big spa in the corner of the leisure pool. I love it so much I fear I may be having an illicit affair with it. It's just so nice to curl up in a corner and let the jets go to work on my sore muscles.

And this was the right move at the right time. When I was just starting out with my exercise, I doubt I would have been able to overcome my self-consciousness enough to really enjoy the facilities. But now? No problems. There are people of all shapes, sizes, and abilities exercising there; I don't stick out in the least. Well ... except for the time I was watching "Jeopardy" on one of the TVs in the fitness center and barked "Aww, c'mon -- that's easy!" at a Final Jeopardy question I thought was too simple. The guy on the elliptical trainer next to mine looked over at me, glanced down at my elliptical's readout, took note of the "Turtle on Valium" speed and difficulty level, and gave me a very strange look. Whoops. Forgot I wasn't in my basement, and others can hear me when I holler at the TV. D'oh.

A Dumbbell In A Public Gym (OK ... Not Yet).

So we finally made good on our threat to check out that recreation center near our house. I'm really glad we did. The pool visit I wrote about a few entries back did indeed turn out to be the last one for the year (it was way too cold and rainy to even think about swimming on the pool's last open weekend), and I missed swimming like crazy. Every time we rode past the community center last weekend I peered hopefully at the pool, hoping against hope that maybe they'd extend the season one more week since the previous week had been so wretched and unswimmable. That only seems fair, doesn't it? Doesn't it? Apparently, the staff didn't think so. Hmpf.

Anyhow, that rec center is niiiiice. It's got two different pools: a "leisure" pool with lots of kid-friendly features like a huge slide that actually snakes around outside the building before dumping you in the water, and a competition pool for the die-hard lap swimmers. It also has a nicely-equipped gym.

My original plan had been to go hang out in the leisure pool, because I'm stupid and had no idea that parents like to set up big kiddie birthday parties there and that every child in Northern Virginia had a birthday this weekend. (I also didn't know that this pool is a good bit smaller than it looks in the photos on the center's website.) The leisure pool turned out to be pande-freakin'-monium; I could hear the shrieking and yelling and screeching of hyper kids well before we reached the swimming area. The lap pool had several open lanes and was blessedly quiet, so we ended up there. I swam laps until my arms and legs were about to give out; we'd already gone on a fairly long bike ride in the morning, so that took less time than it usually does.

We checked out the leisure pool and noticed that although the rest of the pool was packed, the big whirlpool in the corner was empty. Empty! Soaking my fatigued bod in there for a few minutes felt amazing. I think I'm gonna like it there.

We wound up by taking a look at the gym upstairs. I've been wanting to try out an elliptical machine for a long time, and this place has a row of them. They've also got several weight machines and piles of just about every resistance-training gadget I could imagine. If I hadn't been in my wet bathing suit and totally inappropriate shoes, I might well have hopped on a machine right then and there.

So yes: It looks like the Dumbbell is going to be branching out from the Home Gym just a bit. I have mixed feelings about working out around other people, but then again I've been swimming with other people all summer long with little problem. We have neither the space nor the finances to set up a lot of fancy exercise equipment downstairs and I've been looking to shake up my exercise routines for ages, so I'm just going to have to get over this anti-gym attitude.

Walking BackAsswards.

Sometimes when I'm desperate for a magazine to read, I'll pick up a copy of Shape. I used to really like Shape, and then it dawned on me that if I've read one month's issue I've pretty much read them all. Really. Is it just me, or is working on their editorial board about the easiest job in the world? It's as if they change the wording of the articles slightly, slap a new model on the cover, and send out what's essentially the same issue month after month:

"Ten Killer Moves to (Banish That Belly!/Tone Those Thighs!/Firm That Flab!/Trim That Tummy!)"

"Great Must-Have (Fall/Winter/Spring/Summer) Looks To Suit Every Shape!"

"Ten Warning Signs You (Can't/Shouldn't/Mustn't) Ignore!"

"Fabulous Food Finds For Fall!" (Or "Simple Superb Suppers For Spring." You get the idea.)

But sometimes I'm low on magazines I haven't already read. What can you do? I pick up the latest Shape.

I bought it last week and found a routine designed to shake up your treadmill time. I'm all about the shaking up, so I tore the page out of the magazine and resolved to give the new workout a try.

The routine involves 30 minutes of alternately walking backwards on the treadmill (they've dubbed this "retro-walking", a name I shall not use again because I think it's ridiculous -- it makes me think I should be promenading outside in cat-eye glasses and a poodle skirt; so retro!) and then turning around and walking reallyreallyfast up a steep incline. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Try not to barf from all the direction changes.

"Walking backwards on the treadmill!?" Yeah. It sounds weird. It is weird. Various sites and articles I've read claim that it's supposed to Challenge Your Leg Muscles In New And Different Ways!, but I'm a bit skeptical about its actual value. Sometimes I envision a secret room buried in the foot of a remote mountain, a special gathering place where fitness gurus roll around on the floor trying not to piss themselves laughing as they challenge each other to come up with exercise ideas so completely ridiculous that nobody would ever actually try them.

Ha! Suckers. They lose. I tried the workout on Saturday. Things got a wee bit dramatic when our power blinked out and back on again and hosed all my timing and speed information (and nearly sent me tumbling down the steep treadmill incline when everything froze), but I managed to salvage the walk anyhow. I performed all the intervals and then did the cool-down stretch they recommended.

Sweet merciful CRAP. I knew I was in big trouble when the "delayed" onset muscle soreness kicked in less than an hour later. By Sunday night, I could barely walk for the soreness. I don't know if it was the walking backwards, the walking forward up the steep inclines, the stretches, or a bit of all three, but I gimped around the house as if I were about 130 years old. Whoof.

A friendly note: If you decide to try walking backwards on the treadmill, turn the treadmill speed down to a really slow pace when you first try it. I didn't, and nearly left a Nicole-shaped hole in the wall opposite our treadmill as a result. You might think that's a painfully obvious thing, given that normal treadmill walking involves moving against the belt while walking backwards would mean walking with the belt, but ... well, I'm sorry. Things like this are why my blog isn't called "A Smart Person In A Home Gym," I guess.

Gettin' The Heck On With It.

First of all, thanks for the comments on the last entry. No worries -- I'm not quitting! Something that Marla said resonated with me: "It's a little bit depressing, but I've come to terms with the idea that I'm going to be doing 'this' for the rest of my rest." Yep. As much as the intellectual side of me knows that I'm going to have to be vigilant and on top of my eating and exercising for the rest of my life, the bratty emotional side of me just doesn't wanna deal with that sometimes.

However, there is no doubt in my mind that I desperately need to shake up my workout routine. So I've gone back to one of my earliest sources of inspiration: Stumptuous. I don't know how she does it, but the way Krista writes about weightlifting makes it sound so damn fun that I invariably end up wanting to drop whatever I'm doing and heave dumbbells and barbells until I'm exhausted and my arms have the strength of overcooked spaghetti noodles.

I have been shamefully neglecting my weights lately. I don't know why I keep doing that. I like how I feel after I do strength training. I like DOMS. And the difference in my strength is perceptible within days; the stairs that kick my ass on Monday will barely register on Friday if I've done a night or two of squats and stiff-legged deadlifts in between.

So I headed to her site and printed out the All Dumbbells! All The Time! workout, because that's what I've got to work with at home. Having to do "only" four exercises a night is a good way to psyche out my lazy side. (I'm doing multiple sets of each exercise except for the evil painful deadlifts from hell, of course, but shhhh. The lazy side doesn't need to know that part.)

And sometimes having a simple program to refer to does the trick. I’ve done two nights of weightlifting this week, which is vastly better than the zero nights per week I’d been doing up to now. On Sunday I’m going to sit down and figure out a decent cardio/weights schedule for this week. (Sunday morning? Bike ride. Of course. It’s been gorgeous here this weekend.)

In other news, let’s quit yabbering about me for a second and give my husband a round of applause. Today he received a big packet in the mail from the National Weight Control Registry. He applied to join because as of this month, he’s kept off his 60-pound loss for more than a year, and the NWCR likes to track people like him to gather information on how they're keeping the pounds off. He’s in the process of filling out the ten bazillion forms they sent; once they’ve gotten his information he’ll be quizzed every year about his weight maintenance and whatever healthful habits he’s using to stay there.

I'm married to a successful maintainer. Now that's motivation.