The other night Dr. Phil's show focused on resolutions. The first show of the new year, it was appropriate subject matter. His tag lines were "What will you leave behind in 2009?" and "Don't do it again in 2010". Seems to be the year of the rhyme. One of the Ministers at church came up with "save the men in 2010." Hey, he got a laugh and a round of applause from the single women in the crowd.
I, too, have been mulling over my new year's resolutions. I don't generally make them because I'm quite good at forgetting them as soon as I write them down, or even before I've gotten so far as to write them down, if you really want to know the truth. I'll think of something really worth resolving while I'm riding on the bus. I'm standing and can't let go of the handrail to fish into my tote for a pen and notepad. As soon as I get to work (10 minutes later) I think "now what was that resolution I thought of on the bus? I'm pretty sure it was a good one. Oh well." And then I carry on with life sans any resolutions.
I've come up with a few resolutions to work on this year, but here are a few of the more ridiculous resolutions I've resolved to not resolve.
Ridiculous Resolution #1
Lose Weight/Get Into Shape - I can run after my bus every morning (usually in heels and carrying a tote, purse, lunch bag et al), I can climb up to the top of Queen Anne Hill in 10 minutes or less and continue at a brisk pace for a decent workout, I can walk miles, lift heavy boxes, climb my four flights of stairs several times a day, ski a black diamond run, hike Mailbox Peak (although I'm not finding it as appealing these days). I can yoga, salsa and hip hop (although it's not pretty). I don't need to have rock hard abs. I'm not a dancer, performer, bodybuilder or any other exhibitionist. It'd be nice to have amazing abs, but it's just not going to happen. I'm soft and curvy. Always have been always will be. Acceptance.
Ridiculous Resolution #2
Cut Out Sugar - I have a sweet tooth. I feel the need to round off a healthy meal with a bite of something sweet. Not an entire pie, or huge slice of chocolate cake, just a bite - something shared, a small taste will do. I'm not giving that up. Yes, this explains #1.
Ridiculous Resolution #3
Find My Dream Job - That seems to be an ongoing resolution that is neither ignored nor achieved after so many January 1st's having passed. After over a dozen jobs in the past 3 years, I've come to the conclusion that I like change. I thrive on change. I love changing jobs every few months, meeting new people, learning a new industry, developing new skills and brushing up on old ones. While most people stress over the first day of work, unsure about where to hang their coat, put their lunch, who to eat with, I find the whole experience exciting in some weird way. Constant change is my dream job. If only it was more lucrative.
Ridiculous Resolution #4
Pay Off VISA Every Month - If I had the money to pay off my VISA every month, I would not have to use my VISA in the first place. (See #3 - the not-so-lucrative career of the ever changing jobs temp)
Ridiculous Resolution #5
Start My Own Business - Okay, this is more of a pipe dream than a resolution. With #3 and #4 in place, this one is simply...well...ridiculous.
Good luck to all of you with your not-so-ridiculous New Year's Resolutions!
Showing posts with label fitness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fitness. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Monday, September 8, 2008
A Sporty-Spice Kind of Weekend
Unable to persuade any of my pals to accompany me to the Storm game Saturday, I went anyway. Being alone certainly isn't going to stop me from having an experience. I figured at the very least, I could just go for the first half and then, like a restaurant critic, sneak out before the final course if things got bad. Well, I should have known better. As someone who, while channel surfing, comes across a curling match and pauses to take a peek and then gets totally sucked in, I should have known once there, I was in it for the long haul.
From my 9th row seat, I had a great view of an exiting game. It was neck in neck for the first quarter, then the Storm was down ten points at half time. The half time show was a performance by One World Taiko, an amazing Japanese drum ensemble who wowed the crowd. The Storm dance troupe, consisting of children ages 5-16 (more tots than teens), entertained us between quarters and during timeouts. Good little dancers, but, yes, tiny tots. The little girls had manes of long flowing hair they tossed about like sex kittens on top of a sleazy bar. That was slightly unnerving. But I tried to stuff my old fogy attitude away and appreciate the overall talent.
During the second half, the Storm came back fightin' and pulled ahead quickly. Late in the fourth quarter, Sheryl Swoope took a belt to the head which knocked her out cold. There were the usual hushed speculations amongst the crowd before she was hauled off on a stretcher. Then the team carried on and won the game by 12 points!
Yes, it was an exciting game. I was yelling, hollering, cheering and getting into it whole heartedly. I tried to chalk up a conversation with the guy sitting next to me, but no response. He was with his family. I wasn't flirting! Just trying to have some fun with the people who were near me! It's a sporting event for crying out loud.
Next day, after a heart pumping power walk, I did make that driving range date I promised myself. I figured I'd practice my swing, then saunter out onto the patio to sip a cool something or other and check out my fellow golfers. That backfired. The patio was closed for a private kiddie party. That shouldn't even be allowed. It's a golf club. Golfers expect to sit on the patio for cold one after a round of golf! While I was practicing my putting, a fella asked where the nearest place was to have a drink outside. I directed him to downtown Ballard. I'm pretty sure, based on his mannerisms, he was trying to figure out a way to ask me along. Sometimes it's a good thing that I'm right handed so my golf glove is worn on my left. Of course, in most cases that works against me since honing in on the wedding ring is my first order of business when I'm clocking a guy.
Definitely loads of men there, though. Will have to frequent more often-and maybe I'll actually improve my game in the process! Which really is the point, after all.
From my 9th row seat, I had a great view of an exiting game. It was neck in neck for the first quarter, then the Storm was down ten points at half time. The half time show was a performance by One World Taiko, an amazing Japanese drum ensemble who wowed the crowd. The Storm dance troupe, consisting of children ages 5-16 (more tots than teens), entertained us between quarters and during timeouts. Good little dancers, but, yes, tiny tots. The little girls had manes of long flowing hair they tossed about like sex kittens on top of a sleazy bar. That was slightly unnerving. But I tried to stuff my old fogy attitude away and appreciate the overall talent.
During the second half, the Storm came back fightin' and pulled ahead quickly. Late in the fourth quarter, Sheryl Swoope took a belt to the head which knocked her out cold. There were the usual hushed speculations amongst the crowd before she was hauled off on a stretcher. Then the team carried on and won the game by 12 points!
Yes, it was an exciting game. I was yelling, hollering, cheering and getting into it whole heartedly. I tried to chalk up a conversation with the guy sitting next to me, but no response. He was with his family. I wasn't flirting! Just trying to have some fun with the people who were near me! It's a sporting event for crying out loud.
Next day, after a heart pumping power walk, I did make that driving range date I promised myself. I figured I'd practice my swing, then saunter out onto the patio to sip a cool something or other and check out my fellow golfers. That backfired. The patio was closed for a private kiddie party. That shouldn't even be allowed. It's a golf club. Golfers expect to sit on the patio for cold one after a round of golf! While I was practicing my putting, a fella asked where the nearest place was to have a drink outside. I directed him to downtown Ballard. I'm pretty sure, based on his mannerisms, he was trying to figure out a way to ask me along. Sometimes it's a good thing that I'm right handed so my golf glove is worn on my left. Of course, in most cases that works against me since honing in on the wedding ring is my first order of business when I'm clocking a guy.
Definitely loads of men there, though. Will have to frequent more often-and maybe I'll actually improve my game in the process! Which really is the point, after all.
Monday, August 25, 2008
An August Trek in the Rain
Trying to embrace the final days of summer in the Pacific Northwest, my hiking buddy and I headed up to Mt. Pilchuck for our second hike of the season (we're busy girls, hard to get much hiking time into one very short summer season in the PNW). I had plans on Saturday, so we went on Sunday. I loaded my day pack with all the necessary equipment, the all important lunch, Swiss army knife, sun screen, loads of water, and a couple extra layers for warmth in case it got chilly later. I stepped out into the morning sun and caught the bus up to Bothell to meet my friend.
Donning sunglasses and flip flops (hiking boots in the pack), it never occurred to me that the weather would be any different. After all, Saturday was sunny and in the 80's, the perfect August day.
Mt Pilchuck's 2100 foot elevation gain is a much easier hike than Mt Si's 3700 foot elevation gain. The guidebook describes it as a gradual climb, "no more difficult than climbing your stairs at home." Yeah, all 3 miles up. My four story walk up to my apartment barely prepared me for the rock scrambling climb. I wouldn't exactly say it was the 'grandma hike' the guidebook practically described, but I definitely was able to keep up with my friend this time and got a plenty good workout.
The last bit was the toughest. Some descending climber made the comment as he passed by "you're almost there!" Unless that lookout tower is around the very next bend, I don't want to hear the phrase, "you're almost there." Like telling a child in the car that you're almost there, you don't do it until you're pulling into the driveway. The "false summit" is the worst.
By the time we reached the top, scrambling over the boulders, the rain drops began to fall. Rain drops? Are you kidding me? It was totally sunny with stellar views just a few short steps below. The wind suddenly picked up, rain drops became bigger and more dense and I swear I felt snow flakes as we monkeyed our way up the slick, metal ladder to the lookout tower. Apparently, I was clearly the only hiker who failed to check the weather report before setting out for a day hike. I quickly climbed into my layers of long-sleeved warmth, while everyone else slid into their rain gear. Yeah, I had weather amnesia. Two whole days of sunshine and I forgot where I lived. August 24th. Only those of us in Seattle, and maybe Alaska, would think of the possibility of rain-cold rain- on August 24th.
We grazed on our lunches, luckily under the shelter of the lookout tower, took in the foggy socked in views and began our descent down the mountain. Down the mountain is always trickier than up. No one ever admits this. No one ever talks about it. But going down, for me, is actually more difficult. A prior foot injury and knee surgery makes going down more work. At one point I actually had to stop part way, remove my boot, and wait for the pain to subside under the dry protection of a tree branch. I told my partner to go ahead, don't wait, I'll be fine. This is normal for me. She looked at me drenched in her rain slicker. Unsure of what to do. I waved her off. She turned and continued onward. Not two minutes passed when I looked up and saw her coming back toward me trudging through the rain and mud. "I can't just leave you here in the hopes you make it down eventually!" she says. Awww, what a friend. On a trail as populated as that one, I'm sure I would have found some kind soul to assist me if necessary. However, nice to know what a great friend, and hiking buddy, she makes. Note to self: invest in hiking poles.
When choosing the trail for this weekend's hike, she had suggested Mt. Pilchuck or Mailbox Peak. Mailbox Peak? Mailbox Peak is a grind. At 4000 foot elevation gain, I swear it begins straight out of the parking lot. You step out of your car and start UP and it just keeps going, without any views what-so-ever, until you finally reach the top. At such point the views are incredible. I think you can see Kansas or something. I did Mailbox when I was in my hiking (and fitness) prime, twice even. I'm in no way ready for Mailbox today. Maybe with a few more hikes under my belt this year, I'll be ready for Mailbox before winter. We'll see.
As for today, I went to yoga to give my rubbery legs a good stretching and cool down from yesterday's workout. Hurray for yoga.
Donning sunglasses and flip flops (hiking boots in the pack), it never occurred to me that the weather would be any different. After all, Saturday was sunny and in the 80's, the perfect August day.
Mt Pilchuck's 2100 foot elevation gain is a much easier hike than Mt Si's 3700 foot elevation gain. The guidebook describes it as a gradual climb, "no more difficult than climbing your stairs at home." Yeah, all 3 miles up. My four story walk up to my apartment barely prepared me for the rock scrambling climb. I wouldn't exactly say it was the 'grandma hike' the guidebook practically described, but I definitely was able to keep up with my friend this time and got a plenty good workout.
The last bit was the toughest. Some descending climber made the comment as he passed by "you're almost there!" Unless that lookout tower is around the very next bend, I don't want to hear the phrase, "you're almost there." Like telling a child in the car that you're almost there, you don't do it until you're pulling into the driveway. The "false summit" is the worst.
By the time we reached the top, scrambling over the boulders, the rain drops began to fall. Rain drops? Are you kidding me? It was totally sunny with stellar views just a few short steps below. The wind suddenly picked up, rain drops became bigger and more dense and I swear I felt snow flakes as we monkeyed our way up the slick, metal ladder to the lookout tower. Apparently, I was clearly the only hiker who failed to check the weather report before setting out for a day hike. I quickly climbed into my layers of long-sleeved warmth, while everyone else slid into their rain gear. Yeah, I had weather amnesia. Two whole days of sunshine and I forgot where I lived. August 24th. Only those of us in Seattle, and maybe Alaska, would think of the possibility of rain-cold rain- on August 24th.
We grazed on our lunches, luckily under the shelter of the lookout tower, took in the foggy socked in views and began our descent down the mountain. Down the mountain is always trickier than up. No one ever admits this. No one ever talks about it. But going down, for me, is actually more difficult. A prior foot injury and knee surgery makes going down more work. At one point I actually had to stop part way, remove my boot, and wait for the pain to subside under the dry protection of a tree branch. I told my partner to go ahead, don't wait, I'll be fine. This is normal for me. She looked at me drenched in her rain slicker. Unsure of what to do. I waved her off. She turned and continued onward. Not two minutes passed when I looked up and saw her coming back toward me trudging through the rain and mud. "I can't just leave you here in the hopes you make it down eventually!" she says. Awww, what a friend. On a trail as populated as that one, I'm sure I would have found some kind soul to assist me if necessary. However, nice to know what a great friend, and hiking buddy, she makes. Note to self: invest in hiking poles.
When choosing the trail for this weekend's hike, she had suggested Mt. Pilchuck or Mailbox Peak. Mailbox Peak? Mailbox Peak is a grind. At 4000 foot elevation gain, I swear it begins straight out of the parking lot. You step out of your car and start UP and it just keeps going, without any views what-so-ever, until you finally reach the top. At such point the views are incredible. I think you can see Kansas or something. I did Mailbox when I was in my hiking (and fitness) prime, twice even. I'm in no way ready for Mailbox today. Maybe with a few more hikes under my belt this year, I'll be ready for Mailbox before winter. We'll see.
As for today, I went to yoga to give my rubbery legs a good stretching and cool down from yesterday's workout. Hurray for yoga.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
From Sea to Si
Back in the day (yes, the day of my married self) my husband and I spent a lot of time on the mountains; skiing in the winter, hiking and backpacking in the summer. We've explored the trails of Snoqualmie Pass and Mt Baker quite thoroughly. I was in shape. I loved the hikes, the great outdoors, the thrill of reaching the "summit."
Since my divorce I've had little opportunity to hit the trails. While in Europe I kept in shape via trekking through cobble stoned alley ways while getting lost in new cities, swimming in the Agean Sea, and dancing on bars in Greek nightclubs. Now home in our fabulous Pacific Northwest greenery, I'm carless and, therefore, find the opportunities to hike still quite rare.
Last weekend I was invited by my very fit friend to head to Mt. Si. I was only slightly apprehensive as I considered my recent fitness level. Sure I walk up to the top of Queen Anne quite regularly -my favorite supermarket, Trader Joe's, is up there, as is my favorite view point, Kerry Park. I haul myself and groceries, laundry etc. up four flights of stairs daily. I walk several miles daily and practice yoga. But even so, I wasn't sure I was quite ready for Mt. Si. I mean, this stressful desk job has taken its tole on me this summer. "It's an easy hike," my friend says, "It's the one people take their little children on. It's considered entry level, a training hike."
A four mile 3100ft elevation gain is 'entry level?' Okay then. I don't want to sound wussy.
We set off at a pretty hardy pace and it's not long before I can barely see the wisps of my friend's pony tail as she books around the switch backs at mach speed. Her spin class, power walk, weight trained physique is showing me up! I don't even attempt to keep up by the 2.25 mile marker. I just settle into my slogging pace, stopping to sip water regularly.
Not only do I see a pretty nice selection of rather attractive men (most with rather attractive women, I might add), I spot several tiny children cooking their way up the mountainside as well! Pushing my ego aside, I stick to the task at hand and keep focus.
When I reach the top, the views are incredible and I find my friend relaxing with her already half eaten sandwich. I peeled off my hiking boot to give my foot a break (shooting pain from an old scooter accident in 2003) and take a long leisurely lunch break before gearing up to head back down. Down was much more enjoyable to be honest. But I'm more than motivated to head out again. As long as my partner doesn't expect to actually hike with me.
During the hike I thought often of the days of backpacking with my husband and our friends. Right, carrying heavy packs of gear and sleeping outside in the elements. I think I could be a little over those days. I rather enjoyed coming home and crashing in my very comfortable bed after a day on the hill Sunday. The steamy hot shower wasn't bad either.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Transitioning the Wrong Way
While I've been in this transitioning of lifestyle mode, seems my body has also been in a transitioning mode...and not in a positive way. My boobs have gone from a 32DD to a 34DDD. Is that even a size? Sounds like a made up size to me. Like they're afraid to tell you you're turning into fatty and need to move up to size E, cause that just sounds so scary. So they just added another D to the number...cause everyone thinks a D is the perfect size. My bingo arms have spread from my triceps all the way down to my wrists. And my love handles are now luggage straps! I weigh myself almost every day and notice slight fluctuations in weight, a couple of pounds up or down from day to day depending on water weight, of course. How can I expect anything different when I haven't done anything differently?
Okay enough is enough. I've been relying on walking to keep me in shape for far too long. My body just scoffs at my attempts. "What? You're going to climb up the top of Queen Anne hill again? Challenge me why dontcha?" It's definitely settled into my power walks, running for buses and walking miles because I just don't have other transportation. So after a few weeks...or maybe month (time flies) of missing yoga classes due to holiday socializing, pet sitting galore, I started back up at my favorite studio and it's been great. My friends also gave me wonderful gifts of yoga for Christmas (a great CD, DVD and lavender eye pillow) which I've been getting much use and enjoyment from.
On Sunday I went to a challenging body sculpting/cardio class at the health club down the street from my house. It'd been quite some time since I'd done a class like that. I can't even remember how long it'd been, that's how long it'd been. I used to be an avid gym goer, but once I went to Europe, that all stopped. No funds for joining gyms and clubs, so I relied on my walking. I went to this class, but felt a little out of my comfort zone. Maybe things had changed since my last visit-like my physical capabilities. As we were lining up outside the studio door waiting for the prior class to get finished, I noticed I was surrounded by 20 something year olds. Uh oh, this could be a mistake, my 44 (and a half) year old self was saying.
Once inside I discovered a whole new array of equipment. We set up our step benches (okay, these were the same- I was familiar with these), I noticed the other gals putting together something. What are we doing? I'm trying to keep up already! We are putting together barbells. Oh, right, choose your weights and put them on. What weight? How much should I start with? I look around at my compadres and follow suit. Gather the rest of the tools: bands, balls, dumb bells, mats, arrange them around the step bench and we're ready to go! The instructor, Natalia, from the Eastern Block, gave no mercy. We pumped, we stepped, we worked our hip flexors, glutes and every bit of ab we had, and then more glutes and more arms and more cardio stepping. It was a good old sweaty workout. Seeing my reflection in the mirror kept me going. How did I gain 10 friggin' pounds and think I actually looked okay? Somehow when standing in your mirror alone at home you can convince yourself that you actually look pretty good (okay so I'm slightly delusional). Then I stand next to a fit instructor who I'm pretty certain is my senior and looks fabulous and my self confidence is crushed into dust.
The workout felt great, I got through it somewhat respectably, and after talking to the youngin's I was glad to hear the 20 something year olds got their asses kicked just as well! I will definitely return, for my physical appearance as well as my health, of course!
Okay enough is enough. I've been relying on walking to keep me in shape for far too long. My body just scoffs at my attempts. "What? You're going to climb up the top of Queen Anne hill again? Challenge me why dontcha?" It's definitely settled into my power walks, running for buses and walking miles because I just don't have other transportation. So after a few weeks...or maybe month (time flies) of missing yoga classes due to holiday socializing, pet sitting galore, I started back up at my favorite studio and it's been great. My friends also gave me wonderful gifts of yoga for Christmas (a great CD, DVD and lavender eye pillow) which I've been getting much use and enjoyment from.
On Sunday I went to a challenging body sculpting/cardio class at the health club down the street from my house. It'd been quite some time since I'd done a class like that. I can't even remember how long it'd been, that's how long it'd been. I used to be an avid gym goer, but once I went to Europe, that all stopped. No funds for joining gyms and clubs, so I relied on my walking. I went to this class, but felt a little out of my comfort zone. Maybe things had changed since my last visit-like my physical capabilities. As we were lining up outside the studio door waiting for the prior class to get finished, I noticed I was surrounded by 20 something year olds. Uh oh, this could be a mistake, my 44 (and a half) year old self was saying.
Once inside I discovered a whole new array of equipment. We set up our step benches (okay, these were the same- I was familiar with these), I noticed the other gals putting together something. What are we doing? I'm trying to keep up already! We are putting together barbells. Oh, right, choose your weights and put them on. What weight? How much should I start with? I look around at my compadres and follow suit. Gather the rest of the tools: bands, balls, dumb bells, mats, arrange them around the step bench and we're ready to go! The instructor, Natalia, from the Eastern Block, gave no mercy. We pumped, we stepped, we worked our hip flexors, glutes and every bit of ab we had, and then more glutes and more arms and more cardio stepping. It was a good old sweaty workout. Seeing my reflection in the mirror kept me going. How did I gain 10 friggin' pounds and think I actually looked okay? Somehow when standing in your mirror alone at home you can convince yourself that you actually look pretty good (okay so I'm slightly delusional). Then I stand next to a fit instructor who I'm pretty certain is my senior and looks fabulous and my self confidence is crushed into dust.
The workout felt great, I got through it somewhat respectably, and after talking to the youngin's I was glad to hear the 20 something year olds got their asses kicked just as well! I will definitely return, for my physical appearance as well as my health, of course!
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