I haven’t posted any recipes in a while, partly because I’ve been the eating the same thing every day for the past several weeks, despite my desire to branch out in several gastronomic directions. The other reason is because I’m reading several different cookbooks in order to break out of my rut and just haven’t found anything that I really want to share.

The real reason why my daily menu is so repetitive? Summer bodies are made in tehw inter, right? Ugh. Yes, so I know what I have to eat in order to stay the course, and that’s pretty much what I’ve been eating. It’s so boring that if it were a book, it would 50 shades of Snooze.

Breakfast

Half an apple
Scrambled egg beaters
2 slices of Turkey Bacon
1 Cup of Tea
1 slice of toast (occasionally)

Mid Morning Snack

Half an apple

Lunch

Option A:

Salad with 2-3oz. grilled chicken, 5 cherry tomatos, 1 slice of red onion, 1 tbs. salad dressing
3 cups of popcorn
2oz dark chocolate

Option B:

Chipotle Chicken bowl with white rice, fajita veggies, black beans, mild salsa and lettuce (my name is Hilary with One L and I am a Chipotle-a-holic).
2oz. dark chocolate

Mid Afternoon Snack

A cup of tea
Some kind of nosh that doesn’t exceed 150 calories

Dinner

A couple of options usually involving chicken, vegetables and rice.
Gelato bar (gotta have my dessert).

And that’s the menu for me. Day in and day out. If I do have a craving, it’s usually for a big ol’ piece of steak, not moo-ing, but pretty pink in the middle, along with some fries. Mmmm, fries. But, I’m trying to be a good role model for the kiddos and do everything in moderation. Is there junk food in the house? Sure. Recently, however, we’ve decided to see how we’d feel by cutting back (and eventually cutting out) gluten from our diet. C was having some tummy troubles that just wouldn’t quit and after research, q&a with the doctor, and so forth, we modified the diet. Let me tell you, there is SO much information out there about what causes tummy troubles. Is it gluten? Is it wheat? Is it soy? Is it lactose? Is it some combination of those? You don’t know unless you start weeding things out and slowly re-introducing them back into the system. I can’t even begin to list the articles I’ve read, the books I’ve paged through, the conversations I’ve had with people about what to eat, how much to eat, where to get it from. I’ve been told to watch Food Inc., and Forks Over Knives — you know, in all my free time — and I’ll really get an idea of where my food is coming from and why I shouldn’t eat anything I don’t pull out of the ground myself or shoot down like Katniss Everdeen.

Dude. I thought I was doing okay. Sure, I bought some Twinkies during the last snowstorm, but that was like a one time thing. I limit the amount of sugar and dessert the kids have. Fast food is limited to Chipotle (duh) and maybe Panera if that even qualifies as fast food. I cook dinner just about every night. I buy organic when I can. I’m pushing fruits and veggies and water and lean meats. If we ate any more chicken, we’d all sprout feathers (and you know how I feel about feather covered chicken parts).

Last week-end, I did a clean sweep of the pantry, fridge and freezer, pulling out all things that were wheat heavy and potential tummy trouble-makers. It was way more than I anticipated and I had no idea what I was going to do with these things. Add to that, I had just gone to Trader Joe’s and had gotten my cookie butter! But, we’re doing this for the greater good. So, it went into storage — after I tried to pawn it off on my brother who reminded me, “Well, if you aren’t going to eat it because it’s bad for you, what makes you think I want it?!” Touché, my good man, touché.

We made it through the week-end, but come the week, M had something to say. Namely, to her if C was the one having the issue, then C was the one who needed to make the dietary change. There was all manner of huffing, puffing, deep sighing, eye rolling and nostril flaring. There was whining and “But, Mooooooom-ing”, too. I suffered through these machinations for a few minutes before gently advising M to change her ‘tude before we got home. M firmly dug in her heels, crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I’ll change my attitude when I can eat gluten again.”

Oh boy.

I’ve been working on my responses to behaviors that I deem ~~chokeworthy~~ undesirable, so I reached into my reserves and offered up a solution. It had three options:

1. Eat the gluten-free food for this two week trial period and stop complaining.

2. Eat the gluten-free food for this two week trial period and calmly point out what you like and don’t like so that we can find some things that everyone enjoys.

3. Don’t eat anything and stop complaining.

She never really said what she was going to do because C piped up that she was all too happy to go gluten free, that everything tasted wonderful, that her tummy was happy and zippity-doo-dah, my, oh, my what a wonderful day! That did not do anything to quell M’s mood, quelle suprise.

Suffice it to say, when we got home, I emptied the pantry again and let them try all of the gluten free things that I had purchased. If it got a thumbs up, it went into their lunches. If it got a thumbs down, I made a mental note not to purchase it again. When I recounted this story to the Hubs, he said he thought M might be going through gluten withdrawal and that’s why she was acting out. Gluten withdrawal. Is that really a thing? I don’t think my brain can handle any more gluten related information right now. I’m more focused on these cataloged benefits that are supposed to come my way. One friends said that since she cut gluten, she’s sleeping better, she lost five pounds the first week, her lost dog came home, and she found the winning lottery ticket in the back pocket of her jeans. It’s been a week and I should be five inches taller, my vision should be 20/20, my hair should be more lustrous, and I should be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Still waiting. . . .

In all seriousness though, I will say that by the end of the week, I didn’t feel as puffy as I normally do. Ultimately, the only thing I replaced in my boring diet was the slice of toast I would sometimes have at breakfast with some gluten free bread. Oh, and pancake Saturday (I’m heartbroken) had to be re-imagined. I bought, upon the recommendation of a GF friend, some gluten free pancake mix. Yeah. . .it wasn’t quite doing it for me. I did hear that Bisquick makes some GF mix, so I’m going to have get up on that.

Basically, we’ve cut back on bread, pasta, and baked goods. We’re upping the fruits and veggies, and including rice (which might not be that smart, but I’m still working out the logistics). It’s a work in progress, but if C’s tummy is happy, M’s actively participating in this experiment, and the rest of us are getting some health benefits, too, well then, let’s keep at it.

While I haven’t found any GF recipes yet, I do have a recipe for some salsa that I have been making week after week. There’s no gluten in it. No wheat, no soy, no animal by-products. It’s actually a raw recipe, so I was able to share it with my friend Jessika at Oh My Goji (definitely visit her site to learn more about going raw). This salsa is great and you can put it on everything from scrambled eggs to fajitas and all of your Gluten Free favorites! I’ll keep you posted on how this trial period continues.

Salsa Fresca

I learned how to make it watching someone else, and they didn’t measure anything, so it may be trial and error until you get it where you want it to be with respect to taste. Usually, there are more tomatoes than onions and I eyeball the amount of cilantro I use. Better to start with less and add more if you need it.
Ingredients
1. Kosher Salt
2. 6-8 roma tomatoes, diced
3. ½ red onion, diced
4. 1 bunch cilantro, chopped (or you can run it through an herb mill)
5. ½ lime

In a medium bowl, sprinkle salt to cover the bottom of the bowl. Add diced tomatoes. Add diced onion. Add chopped cilantro. Squeeze half of lime over mixture. Combine using a spatula until all ingredients are mixed well. Add salt if needed. Chill in the fridge for at least an hour before serving.

Don’t forget the tortilla chips! Enjoy!

IN: recipes ON: March 28, 2014 TAGS: baking, cooking, food, life, om nom nom, pinterest, recipes, sharing BY: Hilary

The Summer Time Cometh

I saw this quote the other day that was talking about how summer bodies are made in the winter. I rolled that around for a few minutes while I finished my Sea Salt and Caramel Gelato bar. My synapses made the connection and I realized that summer is right around the corner, despite the continued presence of these winter storms. When the snow melts, when the sun comes out and the temperatures start to rise, I don’t want to be among those lamenting that last bowl of ice cream.

I was looking at my news feed on Instagram the other day and saw where my girl, The Mocha Peach, re-posted a 90-Day swimsuit challenge. My curiosity was piqued. Truth be told, I’ve been feeling pretty okay about how I’ve handled the winter eating marathon that is Thanksgiving through Christmas. I haven’t gone completely off the rails, although some days do require an extra glass of wine or one or two more cookies for dessert. And even though I have a table for one on Pancake Saturday, I keep save my short stack for Saturday only.

So, why would I be interested in a 90-Day swimsuit challenge? Look, I want to feel and look good in my suit just like everyone else. I’m working out very regularly. I’m trying to eat realistically. For me that means, portion control and maybe cutting back on some favorite items. Cutting back, not cutting out, because that’s a sure way to find yourself scavenging in your own pantry at 10:30 at night for some kind of something to satisfy whatever craving you’ve been having all day. But I digress. . .

I want to feel like “Yes, I put in the work. I did what was in my power to do and I’m going to wear this bathing suit!” AND — there’s more — more importantly, I’m not going to worry about it beyond making sure I’ve got the top on right-side up. True story: last time I wore a bikini, I had the triangle top on upside down the whole time. #yolo.

Like most people with most things, I’m trying to get the results I want without having to do a whole lot to get there. So, I visited Val at Fabulous Chick Gets Fit, and Marcy at Will Run 4 Beer, and Jess at Operation Skinny Jeans to see how to make this happen. Were they going to recommend a certain meal plan? Was it going to be something like “Squat Your Way Into Your Bathing Suit”? Was it going to be a Couch to 5K type of program?

I couldn’t have been more wrong. Guess how the 90 day swimsuit challenge works?

Work your ass off for the 90 days leading up to summer to look amazing in your swimsuit of choice.

Work your ass off. Literally. And you know what? I laughed out loud because *head slap* that’s what you’re supposed to do get swimsuit ready.

So, after I read a few more entries on their respective pages, confirming my belief in how down to earth these chicks were, I accepted their challenge. You all know that I’m already up in the gym as part of my routine. I’m not sure how much more I can do, but I am going to re-evaluate what I am doing to kick up the intensity for the 90 days. It may include some push-aways from the table. I’ve already given up wine for Lent (suprise!) and I’ve found a way to help me get over the boredom hump when I’m at the gym.

Like most folks, I come prepared with my iPad, iPod, iTouch, iDistraction of choice to help me slog it out and burn some calories. Usually, there’s some show that I can fire up on the iPad and focus on plot points rather than the burning in my legs as I climb to no where on the stairmaster. I get my fix of current events from online news outlets when I’m pedaling on the elliptical. When I’m on the treadmill or when I’m swimming laps, however, I can’t use those devices to help divert my attention from the task at hand. Thankfully, I can listen to music. I get kind of amped up when I’m hitting my stride and a beat-bumping jam comes through the headphones.

When I’m really trying to push through the wall on my workout, I dial up a groove that gets me moving. And then. . .I pretend I’m in the opening credits of an action movie.

Here’s an example. Two days ago, I was on the treadmill, working through Week 3, Day 2 of the couch to 5k program. Let’s pause for a second and celebrate that I’m actually running again! I’ve got the treadmill moving at a decent clip (6.3 mph, no incline, if you must know) and I’m feeling like I’m ready to dial it down. Part of my brain is urging me to continue at this pace for another two minutes. Right when I’m about to give a handful of reasons why that won’t happen, N.E.R.D’s She Wants to Move comes on. That bass line drops, my pace picks up and suddenly, I’m imagining myself in the opening montage of an action flick starring me as an undercover assassin going through her training regimen as she preps for her next assignment.

Yup, I’ve got a very vivid imagination. Whatever keeps you pushing through to the end, right?

While the song is playing, my arms are pumping and my feet are pounding. I’m dodging bullets, I’m in a high speed car chase leaving smoke and tire marks in my wake. You ever see that montage in The Transporter when Jason Statham’s character infiltrates the drug dealer’s compound and takes out all the henchmen with like a tablecloth, a wall scone and his bare hands? Let me refresh your memory:

Look, it could be a long 90 days. . .you gotta make it work for you.

What do you do to build your summer body and how do you stay motivated?

IN: ON: March 18, 2014 TAGS: self-esteem, sharing, summer, working out BY: Hilary

Chain Mail

I got an email the other day asking me to participate in an inspirational quote chain mail. Usually when my eyes flit across an email and I see “send this to X number of people”, I automatically hit delete and move onto the next item in my inbox. In this case, I did just that. Then a few minutes later, I pulled it out of the trash and read the message in it’s entirety.

The opening request was not filled with the usual dire consequences if you choose not to forward it. It basically said, look, we’re all pretty busy, but a group of us are trying something new and thought you’d be a good participant. The request was simple: send an encouraing quote or verse to the person whose name is in position 1 below. Then forward this email to 20 other people.

When I saw the “forward to 20 other people”, I deleted the email again. I hate doing stuff like that. Plus, I don’t think I have 20 people that I can afford to irritate with something like this. I moved onto another message in my inbox.

Maybe it was my conscience kicking in or maybe I was reminded of how good I’ve been feeling about what’s going on in my life lately, but I un-deleted the message again. I re-read it for a second time. The following sentences leapt off the screen at me:

It should be a favorite text verse/motivational poem/prayer/meditation that has lifted you when you were experiencing challenging times. Don’t agonize over it–it is one you reach for when you need it or the one that you always turn to.

“Don’t agonize over it”. Agonize is one of those words that makes me think of someone wearing sack cloth and ash, with rents in the clothing. If I’m being told not to agonize about it, does that mean I should just be really casual? Should I pick a well known quote by a well known person? Should it be related to women and mother’s because that’s what I am? Well, by the same token, maybe it should be by a Black writer. Should it to be funny? Should it be oblique and therefore applicable to a variety of circumstances? I don’t know who is going to receive this, so maybe I should opt for something safe like a line from Dr. Seuss? And just like that, I deleted the email again.

Not going to do it.

Still, I kept thinking about it. The person who sent it to me is someone that I respect and whose company I enjoy. I didn’t really have a reason to not participate aside from, “Bleh, I really don’t like doing these things,” and that just seemed like such a wet blanket answer that I un-deleted the email. Again.

I jotted down a list of names, people who I thought would appreciate a little inspiration or motivation in their lives. I’ve been working through some challenges of my own. I’m often reminded of the quote, “Be Nice To Everyone You Meet. They’re Fighting A Battle You Have Absolutely No Idea About.” Often, I let my emotions get the better of me. I’m stubborn and I hold grudges, yet I expect courtesy and kindness from others. Lately, I’ve been more introspective and as a result, I’ve been keeping the aforementioned quote, the golden rule and the prayer that I ended up sharing at the forefront of my mind. Here’s what I sent:

Whether or not the person to whom I sent the Thomas Merton Prayer interpreted as inspirational or not, I don’t know, but I can hope. I chose it because it helps me connect to my own feelings and to something greater than myself. It’s hard for me to ask for me help. It’s hard for me to feel like I’m making the right choices for my family and myself. I second guess myself. A lot. I have doubts. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I’m just trying to do the best I can the best way I know how.

When I read those words, though, I can feel something in my chest loosen just a bit, enabling me to breathe a little more fully. I’m inspired to keep moving forward when I read these words. I’m motivated to push through my discomforts and uncertainties. I’m more willing to accept the good that others see in me as truth.

What quote or prayer, phrase or song inspires you to keep pushing?

IN: ON: March 16, 2014 TAGS: honesty, life BY: Hilary

Ooops. . .

I have this Pinterest board that I call “I’m So Crafty” where I keep a catalog of all the pins that are craft ideas and lifehacks to make routine chores less mundane. There are a few DIY projects in there, some organizational tips, and a handful of projects that I will probably never get around to, stuff like that.

I was trolling through the board the other day ~~wasting time~~ trying to find activities for the girls while they’re home this week on break. Yes, spring break is in full effect here at our house and we are having a serious “stay-cation”. The boredom factor threatens to boil up and over, but I’m doing my best to keep these little minds engaged. One of these activities involved playing with toys that the girls already have. I know! Imagine that! Instead of haranguing me for new toys, let’s dig out the ones that haven’t been loved on for a while. I present to you Exhibit A:

This is Mo’s American Girl Doll Bitty Baby. She’s had this doll for about four years and her love for it has ebbed in flowed in that time. If I had to guess, I’d say that the amount of love shown to this doll is directly proportional to the ease Mo has when trying to brush this doll’s hair. The easier the brush moves through the hair, the more she plays with it, the more she loves on it. There’s not been a whole lot of hair brushing going on as of late and this doll has been relegated to the bottom of the toy bin.

I thought if I could remedy the situation with the hair, maybe that would rekindle the romance for Mo and they’d be BFFs forever. Which brings me to my foray on Pinterest — I wanted to find a doll hair de-tangler recipe so that I could alleviate the knots and tangles in this mane. I found so many variations, complete with color photos of before and after shots on how well the treatment worked. The recipe called for one part fabric softener mixed with three parts water in a spray bottle. Spritz the offending tresses and then brush your way into tame locks.

Fabric softener? Check. Waterbottle? Check. American Girl Doll hair brush where I thought it would be when I needed it?! Check. Let’s do this.

Now, before I continue, let me just make the observation: Of all the pins that I saw related to this doll hair de-tangler, none of the pins – NOT ONE – had an American Girl Doll getting her ‘do done. They were mostly Rapunzel dolls or Barbie Styling heads. In my estimation, doll hair is doll hair. I whipped up the water/fabric softener cocktail and got down to business.

There’s a reason why there were no American Girl Dolls in the pins with the doll hair de-tangler. See, it wasn’t until I was brushing out clumps of sweet mountain lake scented wet doll hair that it occurred to me, “Hmm, maybe I should have looked up how to care for this hair on the American Girl website.” So, with soggy fingertips, I Google searched American Girl Doll hair car on the iPad.

Guess what?

You don’t use doll hair de-tangler on American Girl Dolls. Like ever. If you have a curly hair American Girl Doll, such as the one we have, you should only use water and your fingers to de-tangle and style the hair. Here was my face when I read that last part:

Of course you do.

So, I gave the doll’s hair an epic rinse before breaking out all of my hair implements in order to wrangle it back into some semblance of a style. And of course, I was trying to do this as covertly as possible lest Mo wander through the kitchen and spy what I’ve done to her doll, thereby rendering it persona non grata in her purview. About half a dozen hair balls later, I ended up with Exhibit B:

Not great, but not bad. I had already filled out the paperwork to send her to the American Girl Doll hospital for a “wellness check” and “hair styling” (i.e. swap out the old head for a new one), but Mo was happy with the way it came out.

“Her hair looks like exactly mine!” she exclaimed.

Looks like there’s going to be some deep conditioning and hot oil treatments all around tonight.

IN: ON: March 13, 2014 TAGS: activities, funny stuff, motherhood, my girls BY: Hilary

That Mom

I’ve been wanting to write this post for a while now, but couldn’t move forward because I have been looking for a quote. Well, not just any quote. The quote in question, which I’m pretty sure came from “The Girls Guide to Hunting and Fishing” encapsulated for me the type of household that I wanted to have I was a mom. Before I was married, before I had kids, I had an idea of what kind of place my house would be, what kind of parent I would be. It was an idea, a framework upon which to build. There were pieces of my own childhood as part of the construction, there were pieces from “The Cosby Show” and “Family Ties”, and maybe a little “Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle” thrown in. And then, there was the quote, which I cannot find and leads me to wonder if I just made it all up.

What I remember reading (and I’m pretty sure it came from TGGTHF), was a description of a house the protagonist visited when she sought escape from her own less than Brady Brunch family. What I remember was the description of the pantry and the fridge (food-a-holic, much?), specifically, slices of luncheon meat wrapped in pristine white butcher paper and how the whole place was never off limits for a kid who wanted a snack. In my minds eye, I see creamy maple cabinets and drawers, a double door stainless steel fridge that when opened glowed with gastronomic possibilities. There was a coffee pot and a cup of coffee that was perpetually hot. Kids would come in and out, grabbing snacks and drinks with a “Thanks, Mrs. ___ “, before heading off to other areas of the house where they would do whatver it was kids of their particular age did. And I would preside over hearth and home, never having to wonder that they were up to no good. That! That was the type of kitchen, the type of homey-home that I wanted to cultivate for my 2.5 kids when the time came. Such a simple description elicited such a deep in the bone response in me, I’m still surprised as how strongly I feel it.

I’ve been thinkng about motherhood quite a bit for the past few days. The days are long, but the years are short. How often have I heard that quote? Too many times to count. I started reading this book called, “All Joy, No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenthood,” by Joy Senior. I started reading it; I put it down a few pages in because I was reading about my own struggle as a mother and feeling all the feels associated with it.

I flipped on Jimmy Fallon the other week and was thisclose to writing Jerry Seinfeld a fan letter after he confessed to not “being a great believer in our style of parenting.” Those words alone had me pitched forward in my seat to see what he had to say. He followed up by saying, “Anybody who has kids now, I think we’re just too into it.” Hello! Could you imagine what kind of uproar there would have been had a woman said that?! Jerry was preaching to the choir and drove it all home with his description of the bedtime routine, Chez Seinfeld.

“The bedtime routine for my kids is like this Royal Coronation Jubilee Centennial of rinsing and plaque and dental appliances and the stuffed animal semi-circle of emotional support. And I’ve gotta read eight different moron books. You know what my bedtime story was when I was a kid? Darkness!”

Yes, Jerry! Yes! I am with you on this 100%. And yet, I am disappointed, too, because my agreement with him on how things were and how things are went at odds with how I had imagined things to be prior to putting a toe into the parenting pool. In my dream, I was just someone’s mom. My make-believe kids didn’t even have names or distinct features. I don’t even know how many I had! Now, I’ve got three little girls that I am consciously and unconsciously shaping into respectable human beings. I’ve got parameters within which to work, and my actions could classify me in any number of ways. Am I a Tiger Mom? A Helicopter Parent? A Mom-tator? Does it really matter? Do I really care?

Sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder what in the world I’m doing. How did anyone let me be responsible for the well being of these glitter covered pig-tailed bundles of questions? Sometimes I wonder I’ll be found out for a fraud who is flying by the seat of her pants, making it up as she goes along, pulling snippets of good advice from TV and fortune cookies, trying to keep the F-bombs to a minium. And then, there are other days. . .
Sometimes, I’ve got it under control. There haven’t been any squabbles to squash. No one cried when they were getting their hair done. Improptu acts of kindness, acts of love and silliness reign supreme. This past week-end, we were all fully engaged and present. We played board games and watched “The Property Brothers”. The kitchen churned out pancakes — and everyone ate them! — and spaghetti and meatballs and snacks that everyone enjoyed. There were naps, quiet playtime, books read and movies watched. It was Rockwellian in its domesticity and I willed myself to remember, remember, remember. I’ve talked before about how when my girls are grown, I want them to reflect on their childhoods with smiles and funny stories about that time we did that thing and how funny it was. Even as I type it, I realize that instead of focusing on a future that reminisces about the past, I need to be in the present to create it. I think I just up-ended the space time continuum with that sentence. The point is, I’m working on it. I’m aware of how fortunate I am. I’m aware of what a great life I have and I’m not going to be like Colette about it. I can be Hilary with One L and I can be a photographer and a writer and wife and and wear whatever else type of hat I want and choose to put on. I be all of those things, which is being myself. If I demonstrate that to my girls, cultivate that in them for themselves, that’s the mom I’m supposed to be.

And I’m supposed to have maple cabinets with granite counter tops and a Viking Range,. I’m just sayin’. . .

IN: ON: March 5, 2014 TAGS: honesty, life, motherhood, my girls, sharing BY: Hilary

Mindful Exercise

I work-out five days a week. I try to vary my routine, but I am a creature of habit. I have a limited amount of time to put in some work to get some desired results. I was describing my gym routine to a friend the other day and was struck by the (IMO) enormity of what I do.

Every morning, I start with the five-minute plank exercise:

Well, it’s more like a four-minute plank, because I skip the alternating ankle raise. I’m working my way up to that. After those sweat producing four minutes, I move onto some ab work, specifically this:

I’m behind a few days, but I’m doing it. As for seeing results, well, we all know that I have a sweet tooth. I can feel the muscles toughening up, but all that sweet, sweet lovin’ has encased them in a protective layer that is seemingly impenetrable. So, I head to the gym.

Monday/Wednesday/Friday

I start with 30 minutes on the treadmill. I fired up that Couch to 5K app on my iPad and have begun to pound the treadmill again. It’s been easily 18 months since I last ran, owing to the tendon tear, surgery and so forth. I had been given the go ahead by my doc to run and do whatever exercise I felt comfortable doing. I always saw the best results with running. I always hated doing it, but felt invigorated afterward. I felt like I had worked hard for those 40 minutes and 3.1 miles. Going into it this time, however, I was afraid that I would fall flat on my face. See, although my extensor tendon is repaired, my gait is not completely corrected. I don’t walk heel-toe on my left leg the way I do on my right. I toe-heel, which is troubling. I trip and stumble over flat ground if I’m not consciously thinking about raising my feet to walk. Trying to keep that in mind while running seemd near impossible and a guaranteed way for me to chewing up the sidewalk. Still, I wanted to get over my fear of falling and figured the sooner I laced up, the better. Once I got it out of the way (because I’m convinced, it’s bound to happen), then I could just run and not think about anything else.

I’m about two weeks into this running program and I’m feeling pretty good. I haven’t fallen (yet). My running style has altered a bit in that my hands are palm down, hovering over the treadmill rails in case I feel myself losing my balance. I consciously remind myself to lift my feet, so I’ve got this 1000 yard stare going on as I chant, “Lift! Lift! Lift!” to myself with every stride. And then sometimes, I lip sync along to whatever song comes through the earbuds. It makes for an interesting tableau.

Once I’ve finished my 3o minutes on the treadmill, I head over to the weights. I’m trying to be more purposeful with what I lift and which muscle groups I target. I remember reading an article about “gym hacks” and how to be efficient with your exercises. Do I want lighter weight and more reps or heavier weight with fewer reps? Do I lift until tired or lift until tired plus one? Should I stand in front of the mirror to check my posture or to watch the muscles expand and contract? There is quite a bit of thought going on here and I haven’t even picked up the dumbbell yet. Ultimately, I end up doing the same routine: triceps dips using my own weight. Then, using 10-15 lbs, I follow up with shoulder shrugs, bicep curls, overhead press, chest press, and fly. I do about 50 squats and finish up with the stair-climber for about 25 minutes.

For some, this is probably a whole lot of nothing, but for me, this is a good bit of work. I feel challenged in my exercises and I feel accomplished when I’m finished.

Tuesday/Thursday

Swim days! I started taking swimming lessons over a year ago. I wanted to M and C to be on swim team at the pool last summer and I figured if I took lessons, it might motivate them to take lessons, too. Well, I took the lessons and they were mightily unimpressed. It didn’t bother me, though, because I was able to add something different to my routine.

Swimming requires quite a bit of thinking, which I was entirely unprepared for. Prior to my lessons, I would get in the pool, start moving and be ready to just let the water take me to it’s shadowy depths about half-way down the lane. Turns out, I was expending way too much energy on my strokes, I was kicking with my feet, and I was waiting to long between breaths. All of this I found out during my first lesson. Three things that are easily corrected took way too much brainpower for me to manage in addition to “don’t drown”. If I remembered to kick with my legs, then I was waiting four or five counts between breaths. I remembered to breathe on “three”, then I was making big scooping motions with my arms instead of letting them slice out and back into the water. But, here I am close to a year later, swimming thirty laps twice a week and I haven’t sunk yet!

Recently, I started incorporating the backstroke into my drills, which provided me with another set of instructions to remember. The arm motions require that your thumb comes out of the water first, while your pinkie finger leads your arm back into the water. And you have to kick, and suck your belly button into your spine so that your hips point to the ceiling, but don’t forget to keep your chin pointed up, too, so that your head is in the water to eliminate drag and when your arms re-enters the water, bend it quickly so that you push the water away from you thereby propelling you down the lane, but watch out for the lane line because you’re hand will smack against it splashing water up your nose, so you have to do use forceful exhalation and. . .you know what. . .

I’m just going to stop moving and float for a bit.

After my workouts, I do my best to make good food choices and not eat up all the calories that I just burned off. A fast metabolism was not one of the goodies I got from the genetic mixing bowl. I’m not doing this to drop five pounds or run around without Spanx or what have you. I’m at an age where I have to work this hard to maintain this level of health. I suppose it should be said that I don’t have any desire or inclination to eliminate white flour, sugar, or processed foods from my diet. I cut what I can where I can. More recently, we’ve decided to cut out red meat (au revoir, steak frites! je te manque!), switch to turkey bacon/sausage, and I’m even giving up coffee during the week. Yes, I’m drinking a cup of tea right now. I know. . .who is this person?

There is so much to think about when it comes to your health. It goes beyond what your are eating, how much you are eating and where it came from. When you think about going to the gym, you have to think about not only what you’re going to do, but how you plan to do it. Are you using the handrails or are you hands free on the elliptical in order t challenge your sense of balance and target your core? Are your knees over your toes? Are your feet shoulder width apart? Are you wearing running shoes for running and cross trainers for Zumba and Boot Camp? Is your belly button pulled into your spine? Have you wiped down the equipment when you’ve finished?

More importantly, are you still breathing?

Oh yeah, I knew I had forgotten to do something!

IN: ON: February 25, 2014 TAGS: just do it, self-esteem, sharing, working out BY: Hilary

#I’m Just Saying. . .

IN: ON: February 15, 2014 BY: Hilary

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