Crisis

Ugh my free time the last few days have been occupied by small fires in my personal life, so I do as much of the exercises (admittedly not all, usually anything involving a bar) as I can in the late night before exhaustion sends me to bed. One of these crisis is with the ex (seriously, don't ever get divorced, it totally, totally, totally, totally sucks), which is a major life changer and will be ongoing, and one was minor and with the child (who probably had H1N1 this week since experts say it's too early for seasonal flu; she's doing better now and went back to school today).

And of course you all know my jumprope broke and I hope to right after I post this to run to a store and hunt one down. The ones at Target were NOT like my beloved jumprope so I'm on a mission, a mission from GAWD, to find a worthy replacement. Also, I'm probably not eating enough historically during these highly stressful times I tend to lose my appetite AND not sleep well) but when I eat it's PCP things (having a thing for green beans, as well as celery lately). So there's that.

Day Fifty-Eight: Burn, Baby, Burn

So yeah ... my muscles hurt. But I like it. So do Fred and Sidney.

Day Forty-Eight: Hot Mess

I apparently needed a good cry tonight, which happen to bubble to the surface RIGHT in the middle of my jump ropes. Totally awesome, let me tell you. In addition to my sweat and bug spray, I was soon covered in my own hot blubbering tears. Like it was bad. But I kept jumping, which at first felt like I might drown in my own tears right there in the dark driveway with all the choking and gasping and blubbering ~ I mentioned the blubbering right? Have I no shame???? ~ and for a moment I was convinced that I would trip on the jump rope, knock myself unconscious and indeed die alone in the dark and no one would discover me until the next morning morning and when they did, they would see either a skunk or feral cat ate half my face. But by goddamnit I was gonna finish those exercises. So I did.

Off to shower and slumber ... and hopefully sanity.

Day Twenty-Two: Fear Factor

Dinner: leftover whole wheat angel hair, salmon with lemon pepper seasoning, and a last-minute salad of cucumber, cherub tomatoes, and red and yellow bell pepper with balsamic dressing. Lizard not included.

New addition to the diet plan this week: yogurt. Three times a day yogurt?!?!? This is more yogurt than I've had, like, ever in my entire life. Trepidation! I just never liked it, not sure if it's a texture, taste or aftertaste kind of thing. But last night I bought some drinkable yogurts and some yoplait Very Vanillas. Now, I've seen people eat yogurt just out of the container or add granola, fruit, honey, etc. But I've never eaten it myself in anyway so was unsure how I should or want to eat yogurt. FYI: Drinkable yogurt was survivable. Very Vanilla went OK with Grape-Nuts but ... will seek other options. And once again I'm realizing something through the PCP. A big barrier in my experience with food is that ... I just don't know how. How to prepare it. How to buy it. How to eat it.

My neighbor Laura brought it up recently, recalling a funny summer memory from last year when her family had ribs for dinner and I sat there curiously looking at it; I asked her how to eat it properly, and she laughed and laughed. It's true: never had a rib before that. Did the same thing a few years ago when I visited a friend of mine in Los Angeles and we went to a sushi restaurant (another first time). I realized people use chopsticks, sure, but were forks or fingers were considered taboo or acceptable? I grew up in a family that had limited budgetary means that matched their taste buds. My mom thought Heinz canned spaghetti sauce was "too spicy" for her liking, so once I was on my own I made some progress, but apparently not enough.

PCP is having me to eat things I wouldn't normally. To stick with PCP, I'm must seek out diverse foods within these food groups (carb, protein, veg, fruit, cheese/yogurt). I don't want to eat a bushel of apples or pineapple for every fruit snack. I like salmon, which means I cannot eat it for every protein portion if I want to continue to like salmon. So now I have a fruit basket in my house! How Rockwellian! I'm learning that certain things like bananas and avocados are better ripe and what that looks like (ohhhhhhhh, see??? this might have contributed to my earlier dislike for produce! Eureeka!) and that certain combinations of food are complimentary. This week alone, I've eaten 1. dates 2. raspberries 3. my own homemade guacamole 4. yogurt 5. filet mignon grilled by me 6. rice cooker rice.

On another note, the exercise seems to be ramping up at a pace to where I'm starting to feel a little intimidated. I think it's the number (1,000+ jump ropes? what comes after? where does it stop?) and the fact I've hit an exercise (the pull-up) that I cannot do, period, and that doing a pull-up, let alone a whole set, might take some time to even achieve if I ever do. Once, after wimping out on a tough exercise, I had a roller derby girl named Venom tell me "C'mon ... You can do anything for 20 seconds!"And ... she was right. That's nothing! And it's my mantra now when I exercise. I can do this set of 15, right? I can jump 10 times 10 times in a row, right? I can attempt one pull-up, right? And I have >70 more days to try.

Day Twenty: Ticky Tacky

A few people, including our fearless leader Patrick, have alluded to the fact that a feeling of monotony may be about us in the coming weeks as the novelty and enthusiasm of PCP wears off. I can see that. I stay on track with my exercises, no problem; I can now easily do 100 jump ropes if I flick my wrist, hold the rope just right and keep a steady pace. But when I'm tired, PMSy, hungry, or when my kid is yapping in my ear, it's crossed my mind to cut my reps short or that whatever kink or ailment of the day is enough to postpone the workout, which in my world, there is rarely any time to do something later. There is no later. Reminds me of that saying: If not now, when? If not you, who? No one else is going to get me in peak condition. No better time than now.


Other discoveries:
- Tried Shelby's jam recipe. I used strawberries for one batch, and raspberries for the other. The raspberries were my favorite! What a surprise. Guess what I plan to pick up at the market next time ...
- Do not leave fruit peels or pits in your work garbage, lest you get fruit flies and annoy yourself and co-workers. Lesson learned.
- Over the years I've learned to eliminate any excuses I might invent to avoid or reduce my exercise. Invest in comfy clothes, socks and shoes (for me, it's the perfect fitting pants with buttery soft tees and tanks, often picked up from thrift stores). Trim nails, shave legs, wear deodorant, use the bathroom, brush teeth/chew gum (minty breath goes a long way when you huffing and puffing). Sleep is key; caffeine is only a substitute. Find the right tunes or tune out the world: which do you prefer?
(This blog was inspired by my latest viewing pleasure, Weeds, and its theme song Little Houses.

Day Nineteen: Back on Track

I am proud to say I caught up with Day 18 exercises this a.m. and then did my Day 19 exercises this p.m. despite my cankle, which is on the mend. There were voices within that argued with me to bail. Grr! I got mad.

This evening, I tried like last week to take the kid and her BFF to the playground down the street. They ride bikes and climb on the playground apparatus while I jump rope, etc. But when we got there, a wicked storm was coming off the foothills and the skeeters were hungry, so I attempted a pull-up (uber fail) and then cranked out my inclined pull-ups. And then we scampered back home, where the girls played indoors and I attempted to finish my exercise on the driveway. Let me tell you: with lightning and dark clouds and high wind to my south, I was reminded of the movie Caddyshack as I jumped rope at all costs (when the priest plays on, despite the inclement weather, because it's his best golf game ever? YEAH. Was hoping God wouldn't smite me. Thanks, God!). I didn't want to stop because I was in the zone, ya know? I knew if I stopped, I wouldn't finish it later. That's not how I roll.

I also cooked up some steaks on the grill, and they turned out amazing! I used a marinade of mustard, balsamic, oil, rosemary and pepper (salt is typically used but was omitted for PCP reasons). I also broke out my new rice cooker/steamer. There are two camps: people who swear by rice cookers, and those who swear by boiling water in a pot. I've tried for years to make rice the "real" way and it's always been ... crunchy or mushy but always shitty. Today's batch of brown rice was just ... right. Nom nom nom.

Day Seventeen: The Climb

Bumped up my jumpropes to sets of 200, now that we are at 850 per day. I either rock it or I trip every 20 or so, usually when my calves, ankles or wrists start to fatigue. Cursing abounds. I also can rock inclined pull-ups but not even one iota of strength to do a regular pull-up. Dang. Once, when I was in high school gym class while us girls made lame attempts to play volleyball, the boys were showing off by climbing up this rope attached to the ceiling of the gym.

Like young apes they shimmied up, hooted and hollered at the top, and high-fived their friends once back on the gym mat. As a tomboy not wanting to be outdone, I wanted to see if I could do it. I felt pretty strong. I worked at a restaurant back near Scranton lugging tubs of dirty dishes to the kitchen and kegs to the bar. I played two sports involving lots of arm strength. The boys elbowed and murmured as I took the rope. Our crusty ol' Catholic high school gym teacher even stopped to watch. And then I did it. Not saying it was graceful or well-timed, but I got to the top, touched the ceiling, and then got rope burns on my thighs on the way down. Gym Teacher even patted me on the back with an "Atta girl!" And approximately 10+ years later doing that now seems impossible because this morning this was the memory that blazed into my head as I hung from a monkey bar and couldn't even move up for one pull-up. But I did it once upon a time without even trying to be in shape; it was just because I had youth and manual labor on my side (think wax on, wax off). So I keep thinking "Imagine what I could do if I actually tried to have that kind of strength on purpose?"

Day Ten: Yea, though I slog through the valley of the shadow of fatigue, I will fear not

In an hour I will be playing second base for a city rec softball league, which I've played every summer for the last four years. But I'm tired. I need food but I can't run the bases on a full stomach. I did that once last year and I almost puked. But if I eat I won't run well this year and might puke. I'm in a Catch-22, and all I really want to do is take a nap. Dinner will have to wait; cheese and fruit will have to carry me home (run?).

Before I forget, here are some highlights from this week on the PCP:

- My friend, Cara the Marathoner, suggested instead of my usual cream n' sugar for my coffee to try vanilla soy milk. I'm not prepared to give up my coffee (which I've done three times in my life --- four times if you count pregnancy) nor am I willing to drink it black. I could go without the sugar though since I had gotten obnoxious with the amount I put in my java. Vanilla soy milk is just sweet enough I don't miss the sugar, she said. I was skeptical, but then I tried it. It's true. Mmmm. (thank you!)

- Yesterday I had to work out in the opened garage again. It might have been the heat or increased exercises but at one point the sweat was flying off me. I glistened. Bye-Bye fat!

- The kid spied me jumping rope yesterday and said "WOW, Mom. You're really good at that!" And that kept me going.

Day Seven: I'm Just a Girl

Let's talk about my person of inspiration, my "hero" for the PCP. I chose musician, fashion designer and celebrity mom Gwen Stefani for a few reasons.

She's admitted to having inner chubby kid complex, and how she doesn't just roll out of bed looking like a rock star; she literally works her ass off every day. She does real push-ups during her concerts. She's popped out two pups and as a working mom (sure she has nannies oh and probably a bazillion dollars. But that doesn't mean good parenting gets any easier) she still manages to put on lipstick and fun clothes. She appears to be both confident and vulnerable. And really, who hasn't felt that way?

Day Five: Red Glare

Last night I visited with friends at a home BBQ for the Fourth of July. It was a hoot. It was also a challenge.

The kiddo and I were there for about five hours, and I was offered food and boozy drinks often. Sure, I ate my dinner portion (one kabob of grilled chicken, mushroom and zucchini; a five Doritos -- instead of five handfuls -- and one salt-less, butter-less ear of corn, and a glass of ice water) and it was a wonderful meal with loved ones and I felt full, both in tummy and heart.

But when faced with the repeated question of well-intentioned hosts who asked Are you sure you don't need a drink? Are you sure you aren't hungry? I definitely felt the little angel and little devil on my shoulders debating that very issue. Even though my mouth said No, I'm fine thank you for asking, my mind, and later my stomach, struggled with issue. But rules are rules, and I really didn't want to bend the rules less than a week into the PCP. If I thought it was hard now ...

But near the end of the night my very good friend commented on how she was proud of me. And that's the best kind of positive reinforcement if I ever saw it and was grateful that anyone noticed I was truly, really trying.

The exercise routine (jumping rope followed by a series of some combination of sit-ups, lunges, push-ups and squats) currently continue to be the easiest part of the PCP. The mental struggle with food, for me, is the worst. I am realizing that I eat out of habit rather than actual hunger, I eat most of my calories in the evening rather than throughout the day, and that my decreased calorie intake is making me grumpy and very sensitive to things I would not normally get bent out of shape for, like my child asking for her dinner once we got home from school/work (and an insane lady who momentarily stepped into my body and stole my brain instantly thought at this request GAH you selfish child! Um yeah. That was weird.) or how my right contact lens is a little dry and therefore makes me want to lay down and sob on the floor of this coffeehouse right at this very moment and how my brain wants to rationalize that the second half of my morning bagel would make it all go away.

But, I take a deep breath, and I remember this.

Day Four: Exercising My Freedoms

The hardest thing about Day Four of the PCP was trying to find a place with free wifi to write this blog entry. But here I am sitting on the porch of The Mill, Lincoln's other awesome downtown coffee shop. I skirted in JUST as the outdoor barista started to close up shop for the July 4 holiday. But now I get to sit here guilt-free with my small (instead of usual large) coffee. Ahhh.

Seated to my left is a group of young immigrants, possibly from Ukraine or Russia or other eastern European place, talking enthusiastically with some words sounding familiar like salami, sandwich, Chicago and UPS. Or maybe that is my subconscious talking, as I would happily order a salami sammie from Chicago via UPS at this very moment because I am already hungry despite a late breakfast with friends. We ate at one of my new favorite places in Lincoln, bread&cup, which aims to serve local and in season food. It's terrific. I tend to get the 3 Grain Hot Cereal; it's already a small portion, so I added only half of the cream I typically would have, added half the walnuts and skipped the apple butter. And instead of helping my friends eat the giant cinnamon roll, I only had a small bite (you have no idea how much I love love love cinnamon rolls, and with caramel syrup!) Later today I will visit another friend for a July 4 BBQ; last night I was able to decline multiple drink opportunities but I am unsure if today I will be as lucky. I will prevail though!

The exercises continue to be doable, but my left calf is now on fire, which makes jumping rope without tripping nearly impossible; I do find that doing it faster, rather than slower, avoids messing up. Go figure. My calf is just incredible tight and is sensitive to the touch (and even laying down to sleep on it feels awful). I doubt PCP itself is to blame, but just the muscle itself being overworked from the double duty of PCP and boot camp. Oh well. These are the easy days, sweetheart, so suck it up. Happy Fourth of July, America!