Back in November, I made up my mind to get fit. I was tired of being hostage to my food allergies, which were getting worse, my joint pain, which was getting worse, and the excess weight, which has so much negative effect on my quality of life. A friend and client from Minneapolis had made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse - his payment terms for work done for his company would be that the cheque would be made out not to my company, but to a personal trainer of my choosing. Well, the strategy is paying off. I’m stronger, thinner, and have a better sense of balance (which I’d lost during the years surrounding my ship replacement).
It took me until January to find a trainer that I liked - I chose Matt Cole of Peak Exercise Sciences because he’s a MSc, BHK, CSCS, and RK. He’s not only knowledgeable about training and fitness and injuries and rehabilitation, but he’s experienced (he’s not as young as he looks, he assures me). And he has a disarming way about him - none of this bootcamp obnoxiousness which would have turned me off right away. As well, something that I needed was flexibility; as a consultant, I’m all over the place during the week, so I looked for someone who could train with me downtown or close to where I live, or at my townhouse complex’s fitness room when needed. He comes up with cockamamie exercises that are meant to improve my core strength, and just when I manage to master them, he finds something else that I completely suck at, and I start over again.
Yesterday, I went to The Running Room to invest in a good pair of sneakers which would accommodate my orthotics and my lift and let me get in a good workout without hurting my ankles or knees. And I put on a t-shirt I got at a conference, a t-shirt that was two sizes smaller than I usually wear, and it fit! And I put on some jeans, and realized I needed to wear a belt to keep them up, and my belt fit on my hips (a belt that would have barely fit my waist before), and I checked and I’m down 15 pounds. Whoo hoo!
I wonder why my joints still hurt. Must ask Matt about that. But hey, I’m more motivated than ever to keep going. Working out, riding my Trikke, watching my nutrition, trying to keep my stress levels under control. Stay tuned ...
Went to work out today for the first time since falling down the stairs. Hurt like hell, but didn’t want to leave it too long. When I came home, stiff and sore, I came up from the underground parking and saw a half-dozen robins hopping about the yard, pulling worms out. They paused when they saw me, cocked their heads to see if I was a threat or a passing phenomenon, and resumed their foraging for wriggling protein. It made me happy - spring is imminent.
Speaking of happy - I just read that British and Australian researchers have shown that half the differences in happiness are genetic, based on studies done on twins. Common genes result in personality traits that predispose people to happiness. Does that mean that certain miserable people I know will always remain so?
I wonder if they’ll ever find the tacky gene. If they do, I could certainly get behind certain pragmatic uses for genetic testing.
Mostly, living in a strata situation is okay - less yard work, tree trimming, trash collection, and so on. But every so often, there are things that drive me crazy. Like having slippery outside stairs and not being able to just fix them - no, you have to wait for the powers that be to Do Something - which is not likely to happen unless you make a fuss.
So the bloody awful coating on the steps is slippery when the temperature drops to around the freezing point. Anyhow, despite wearing flat, rubber-soled shoes, I fall down the stairs and am in great pain. I’m pretty paranoid about my artificial hip and my remaining good hip, so I go get x-rays at Burnaby General. All day at emergency.
All bloody day it takes them to do an x-ray and tell me that nothing is broken, no hairline fracture. At some point, through my morphine haze, I hear a medical professional complain that all the beds are full, and I think to myself that if someone would come in and pronounce me releasable, they could have an extra bed. And probably another few of us, as well. They need some work process re-engineering in the emergency department there.
So I start my own little discharge campaign. First, I just get dressed. A nurse asks me if I’ve been OKed to get dressed. I say that I’m getting dressed before the morphine wears off and I can still move. Then, I go in search of water. A nurse wants my assurance I’m coming back. I say sure, of course. Then, I put on my jacket. She wants to make sure I’m not leaving. I say I’m freezing (which is true). Then I put on my gloves, mainly because by now, my blood sugar has dropped and I’m really, really freezing.
Now, the doctor comes in and says oh, you’ve had a hip replacement and I can understand why you’re really concerned about falls. And I think to myself, hmmm, isn’t that what I tried to tell you when I came in? I’m sure I mentioned that ... but it’s one of those things. I can talk,a but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the other person listens. Haven’t figured out how to exactly make the loop close, at least not all the time.
Losing a day at the hospital, then another day of being nauseous and on painkillers, a week before our big conference, is the worst possible time to be unproductive. Guess this weekend will be another working weekend - have to make up for lost time somehow. I’m really excited about the conference and want to put in as much time as I can to make sure it’s a success.
This year, I wanted to do more for me. Yeah, yeah, it probably falls under the category of New year’s resolutions, but it’s been a long time coming and it’s here now. The changes may not seem profound but I feel they’re the start of a new phase:
Do things I want to do - don’t guilt myself into staying home when I’m rather be out seeing a play or having fun doing something else outside the house
Take care of my emotional health - don’t engage with people whose own inability to cope ends up projecting their drama onto me, be that anger, guilt, or other drama
Take care of my physical health - Find physical activities I like to do, work with a trainer, and eat better
So far, so good. It did mean staying away from certain people completely and scaling back time with others. But I’ve compensated by going out of my way to make new friends or strengthen existing relationships with people whose company is easy and comfortable. It also meant getting a personal trainer, which I haven’t done since before my hip surgery, and it’s been great. Getting strong, building core, and losing weight already.
2008 should be a fabulous year; it’s looking up already.
A couple of weekends ago, my grandson and I went to rent trikkes (pronounced trikes) up in Courtenay - remarkably, the only place in BC that handles them. (The good folks at Mansfield Wheels claim that this is because Vancouver bike shops are bicycle snobs; somehow, I don’t doubt it.) Because it was pouring rain with gale-force winds coming off the water, the fellow would only take us out for a brief lesson on a path shielded by a bank of trees, but I could have stayed out longer. (Good thing I didn’t because the next day, my extra-sensitive skin was windburned beyond belief.)
Anyhow, I haven’t had this much fun in ages, and with my declining sense of balance, I felt quite safe riding the trikke. That’s what motivated me: a stable alternative to a bicycle. The next day, my entire body was sore, but I’m sure that after wrestling with the trikke for a few weeks, I’ll have made it do my bidding and won’t feel it as much. There are lots of “cool” trikke videos but my style is more like this:
Life is too short not to be the best you can be. Me? In no particular order: Woman. Wife. Mother. Grandmother. Aunt. Friend. Business owner. Writer. Musician. Jew. Scrabbler. Traveller. Lesbian. Taxpayer. Volunteer. Blogger. Social critic. Voice of reason. PITA. Inspiration. Visionary. Advocate. Convert. Pet owner.