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Long Run: Blessed taper

Right now is my favorite part of marathon training, the taper. About three weeks before the marathon, you do your longest run of the training. Then for the next three weeks, you taper down the miles until the week of the marathon, you are only running 2 miles at a time. After last Sunday’s 20 miler, I was thrilled that today was only 12. I know only 12 sounds a little nutty, but after you’ve already hit the much higher and harder numbers, 12 is a godsend.

The idea behind taper is that high intensity long lasting cardio is hell on you muscles and bones. Duh. So after you peak, you need those three weeks to repair the damage you’ve done by working it so hard. Makes me wonder, if this is built in, how crazy are all of us to do this knowing we are causing damage in the first place. Just a thought.

But that’s why I like the taper. It’s a rest, but it’s also actively recovering, healing, licking my wounds.I think I need to introduce the taper in the rest of my life. I think I’ve mentioned that I’m going back to college to finish up my degree in English. I wonder how they would feel about a taper. Amp up in homework until about three weeks before the final, then give little or no homework, allowing your brain to stop frying from all the cramming. I think it’s brilliant.

I need to figure out how to work this in with my family. “I’m sorry, I can’t take anymore together time. I’m maxed out and I need to taper.”

There is a sad part to the taper though. The less calories I burn, the less calories I can consume. I can’t get away with that extra brownie anymore.

Oh well, can’t have it all.

Yoga Pose: Chaturanga

It’s a fun word to say, but a pain in the butt to do. Part of the sun salutation, in power yoga, between nearly every pose you go through a vinyasa and do plank/chaturanga/updog/downdog. Great core and arm workout, but your arms will be shaking by the end.

Here is what chaturanga looks like.

Start at plank, otherwise known as push-up position. With the hands directly below the shoulders, inhale then exhale- lowering yourself slowly while keeping the belly tight and the back and bum in line. Stop and hover just a few inches above the ground. This is chaturanga.

And in case you’re wondering, yes, that’s me. If I can do it, so can you.

Potpourri: Muscle loss

Here’s my current lament. Intense cardio for long periods of time,- ie marathon training- eats muscle. Your heart rate surpasses that fat burning zone and starts eating the carbs and protein, not the fat. So whenever I hit this stage in training, all the hard work I put into my triceps and thighs – totally gone.

So as soon as my training is over (two and a half weeks!) it’s back to the weight room to tone up. Just declaring my intention so you can hold me accountable.

But glean the bit of information from the top, it’s hard to tone up and build muscle if you do regular high intensity (2 hours) cardio a few times a week. By high intensity, I mean your heart rate stays at darn near max the whole time.

50 Shades of Ranting

One of these days I will do a little more research before I buy a book. In this case I didn’t. So today this post is a rant in the guise of a review for 50 Shades of Grey.

Some of you are probably like, I think I’ve heard that name before. Others are probably like, Oh… that book. Well, last week I was in the first group. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to what was going on, just that I’d heard it was being made into a movie and it was Twilight Fan fiction. So when I saw it on the table at Costco, I thought I would see what the buzz was about. There’s an innocuous looking gray tie on the front cover. Sheep’s clothing people.

The first 3 chapters were torture. Absolute torture. It was forced, stilted, and generally made me want to run back to Costco for a refund. Terrible writing, but I persevered because millions of fans can’t be wrong right? Well, I suppose that’s a matter of taste.

I was expecting vampires, I was not expecting straight up S and M. I skimmed through the parts that I wouldn’t show my momma. But still I was drawn in. Why? I have no clue. The writing was very basic, the character’s personalities were swiped wholesale from twilight, and there were no paranormal elements at all. Just fifty shades of screwed-up soap opera-ness. This absolutely shouldn’t have worked. She took the very worst parts of Twilight (whiny girl who think’s she ugly even though she’s hot, rich overprotective guy who thinks he unredeemable) and beat them like a dead werewolf. Yet, I kept turning the page because I still wanted to know if the power of love could transcend a messed up start.

Would I recommend this book or the series, heck no. If you choose to, be forewarned that it has mooey X rated parts. Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, I wanted to move past this and on to the rant. Content aside, this series has sold 10 million copies. My jaw is on the floor right now. It boggles the mind. It’s right up there with Jersey Shore being one of the most popular TV shows.

Part of me (the author part) is enraged that this… stuff… becomes bestseller material. I have friends whose work is clean, smart, and emotion evoking. Their writing craft makes this looks like a high school essay. So I’m indignant on their and quite frankly my behalf.

Other part of me, the non-judgemental part, says that this work clearly has value. Just like Twilight is not a masterpiece in the literary world, they both tapped a vein that resonated with the public. People love LOVE these books. Don’t ask me why, but they do. And isn’t that really what it’s about? Drawing people in with you story, making people care about what happens to your characters.

I think as an author, we can get especially snobby about good writing and using pretty words. Some literary writers look down on mass market paperback writers or romance writers, thinking their style is ordinary and unintelligent. Yet, this seems to be what the general non-english major public wants to read. To lose themselves in a story without be belabored by big words and artsy metaphors. Quick and light.

So can I really condemn this book and others like it as being subpar horrible pieces that should be burned? No, it may not be to my taste, but clearly others love it, so the authors must be doing something right.
And as much as I want to shake my head at it, E.L James is laughing all the way to the bank with her million dollar paychecks.

Dress for Success: Swimsuit hell

Having lost all this weight, I thought, hey, it’s swimsuit season. I need a cute bathing suit. And I got all excited. For once, I wouldn’t have to order out of the big girl’s catalog. I could actually find something in the store!! I was really excited to find a suit that would show off my new littler body. Silly me.

I have now determined, that swimsuit shopping is hell, no matter what your size. At the store, I immediately dismissed two categories of swimwear. The muumuu swimdress, masquerading as a bathing suit. And the bikini, because I may be smaller, but I’m still not delusional. That left me with one pieces and the tankini.

I tried the one piece first. Thought I could look all svelte and catwoman like. Not so much. I have a very long torso, so they all either crawled up the butt or the bust hit about the ribcage. I’ll even own up, that just for kicks, I tried on the one piece with the sides cut out. Even supermodels don’t look good in those bondage bandaid swimsuit wannabes.

So I tried the tankini. The first store I went to, sold them in sets. Unfortunately my top half is a size larger than my bottom half. So either my bottoms fell off or gave me plumbers butt. Or my top was squeezing all the left over fat up and out. Then I discovered the separates. Praise be to whoever thought that one up. So I finally found a cute little boy short for the bottom. But what to do for the top? Halter. Racerback. Midriff baring (uh no), Deep V, (again, no) padding (yes please. Because the first place I lost my weight was off the rack). Too many combinations and none of them looked right. None of them made me look like the girl on Maxim magazine.

She didn’t have a droopy butt, or an extra flap skin under the arms. I decided, Screw this, I should wear a wetsuit. Then all my little extra bits would be tucked in.

Cue the super skinny girl in the dressing room next to me. Size 0, and moaning about all the exact same things. Her thighs looked flabby. The suit cut across her butt in the wrong place. She had a little bit of a belly. (not that I saw)

Point is, unless you have makeup artists and somebody that can airbrush your photos later, swimsuit shopping is hell. For everyone.

Snack Smart: Fattening vegetables

I have a friend, who will remain nameless, that loves to snack on baby carrots. I swear, her skin could turn orange. And not just from fake bake tanning. Anyway, she is not losing any weight and couldn’t figure out why. After spending one weekend over at her place, I knew why.

She’s attempting to have about 50% of her daily food as vegetables. A great goal. One problem, she soaks them in butter, cheese, and ranch dressing. Sadly, you do have to keep track of the crap you put on veggies to make them taste good. You think Oh, it’s just a little bit of dipping sauce, it can’t be too bad. I measured out her ranch dressing she used on those baby carrots. She added 250 calories to her low cal snack. No wonder she wasn’t losing.

If you gotta have that dipping sauce, make sure you go low fat and use sparingly.

And for the record, apples are a great healthy snack. Apples with a tub of caramel dip… not so much.

Long Run and Fitness Tip: Cheerleaders

This weekend I did my longest run before the marathon in 3 weeks. 20 freaking miles. I ran around my neighborhood, but I’m pretty sure if I’d been smart I could have run to the ice cream shop and back. Anyway, afterwards I had the energy of a slug so the weekend post never happened. So here’s the weekend post with the fitness tip folded in. Like a candy with a gooey center.

I’ve decided that the biggest run before a marathon is just bad juju. Last year it was just after my longest run that I injured my hamstring, making my first marathon a speed walkathon. Two weeks ago I had a great 19 mile run. I wasn’t tired or sore or anything. I could’ve run the marathon that day for sure. This 20 miles kicked my butt. It wasn’t the extra mile that pushed me over, I hit the wall all the way back at mile 5.

It started in the ball of my foot then shot up the shin, through the knee and then up the hamstring finally zapping my lower back. My right leg was stiff and tight and begging to be amputated. So choices. Run through it or go home. I’m too darn stubborn to go home, so I ran through it. Then next 10 miles sucked. Really bad. I wasn’t in extreme pain, maybe a 5 on the pain scale. I had to pull through all my bags of tricks to get through it. Music, singing, visualizing the finish line, self talk… everything. I finally went with “This sucks” over and over to the beat of my feet. Then changed it to “Just one more lap until Chrisy comes”. Yep, I had reinforcements coming.

The last five miles of my long runs, my friend Chrisy Ross joins me. If I could just make it long enough for her to come, then I knew she’d drag my butt those last five miles. Sure enough, rounding the park I saw my salvation. I nearly started crying. My knee by this point felt completely rusted over. She started running in step with me encouraging me, “You’re running strong. Good girl.” I stood a little taller, my stride a little more confident.

For the next fifty minutes or so we kept the pace and she kept my mind off how much I wanted to be home, in bed, with the biggest bag of ice I could find. The last five miles ended up just as easy as the first five. My knee still killed me by the end, but I had made it. And I’m not sure I would have without my friend being my cheerleader.

Everybody needs a cheerleader in life. They don’t need to have pom poms or wear a short skirt, but they do need to push you back onto the field even when your down by five goals. When you have a workout buddy, you seem to stand a little taller, push a little harder, and stay a little longer. I’m not sure if it’s the mechanics of healthy competition, or pride, or the warm fuzzy feeling of encouragement- but I always do better with a friend at my side.

So that’s the fitness tip, get a cheerleader. Somebody that holds you accountable for your progress and pushes you to go even though you feel like giving up.

Exercise for the Soul: Strong like a mountain

The picture above is me in “Mountain” pose for my yoga certification. The purpose of this pose is to stabilize and have a strong base for your practice. That got me thinking. How often are we off kilter in our lives because we don’t have a strong base to come back to? It’s hard to find balance without roots. My life has been crazy lately, and I need to identify my place of strength. Someplace safe where I can go back to and recover. Become strong. Then go out and take on the world again. That is what mountain pose is for in yoga. Either the one pictured or with hands in prayer. In between sun salutations or poses, you can return and center yourself before taking on the next pose.

Today I am going to practice Mountain both in yoga, and finding in finding my emotional base.

Potpourri: Muffin FAIL

I was running out the door one morning and starving. I didn’t have time for my cottage cheese, and I was out of yogurt. So I thought I would just grab one of my husbands muffins from Costco. Couldn’t be too bad right? I mean it’s a muffin for heaven’s sake. I figured 400 calories tops. When I checked later that day to add to my calorie total I was floored. 695!!!!

So not fair that it take 5 minutes to consume and 70 minutes to run off.

Dress for Success: Hand me down fat clothes

During my weight loss journey, I’ve tried not to be offended when my skinny friends offered the use of their pregnancy clothes as my waist shrunk. I know they meant well, but still. Here I’m losing weight and need smaller pants, and the ones that are going to fit are the ones you wore when you claimed to be the size of a whale. So when I wore their pants, I too felt like a whale too.

Recently, I had a different experience with it. One of my best friends and fitness mentor got married. The stress of the event caused her to shrink to practically nothing. When I was losing weight and taking her class, I always thought she was the tiniest and cutest thing I had ever seen. In my head I would say, If only I could get that skinny.

Flash forward to last weekend. She gave me a sackful of pants that no longer fit her. She’s like a size 0 now. (I try not to hate her on principle) When other friends had handed me their “big” clothes, I had mixed feelings about it. One hand smaller, yay! Other hand, you’re still wearing someone else’s hand me down fat clothes.

This time I was thinking my friend was on crack. She’s never been fat. Ever. These are not her fat pants, these are her not “stick thin” pants. These were the pants that my skinny little friend wore all while teaching my body blast classes. And I was sure that there was no way in hell that I was going to fit into them.

You might remember last Wednesday a little post called Mirror Image. If not, look it up. Anyway, I talked about having trouble seeing a difference in the mirror. Trying on her pants was a wake up call. I had admired my friend less than a year ago in these brown cords. The same ones that I had wrapped around my butt right now. That’s right, they actually fit.

The whole sackful of pants did, except the size 2, and those might fit on one leg.

I had been so sure that they couldn’t fit. Because that would mean I was roughly the same size as someone I thought looked hot, and I couldn’t see myself that way. But the proof is the sugar free pudding.

The stories behind the clothes we wear color our own perspective. If you’re wearing your once a month pants with the drawstring, chances are you feel like you look bloated, even if you’re don’t. Like most things in life, I think “sexy” starts somewhere inside. Looking back, I wish I had felt every bit as proud in my friend’s hand me down pregnant fat clothes. I was still getting smaller, still looking great. But the label I thought I was wearing prevented me from seeing it.