The Wagon

Last night I spent a second on or off the wagon, depending on how you look at it.  If the wagon is the old, fun Aryn--I had the pleasure of riding in the passenger seat for a moment; if the wagon is the fit-ish, boring Aryn--my feet touched the ground.

Now, before I set myself up for a barrage of hate mail, lemme assure you that this was a well thought out mission.  Weight Watchers points ingested were triangulated with those allotted, in advance.  I did some damage, but nothing to put me in the penalty box.

One of my promises to myself in starting this blog is that I would be utterly upfront and honest, both with myself and my readers (God it's weird to say "my readers").   Here goes.

Last night I had a blast.  I rounded up some cohorts, prettied myself up, and hit a few watering holes.  I gabbed a lot, listened a bunch, laughed a ton, drank a bit, and late nite ate.  Truly like old times.

So far this journey has made me more alive in many ways, yet less so in others.  I genuinely miss my nights of somewhat-reckless abandon.   I am fully aware that I gave them up for a very important reason--and I'm mostly ok with it.  But I'd be a total faker if I pretended that putting that part of me on hiatus has not dulled me a bit--it totally has.  

I know, I know my focus on fitness doesn't mean I have to be a hermit.  But it does mean that I can't go out on the town with the gusto that I'm accustomed to.  For some, giving this up is no big deal.  For me, it's huge.

Clearly tweaking this part of me is a growth area.  I am eager to learn how the vibrant, dynamic Aryn can flourish within my new system.  I'm not there yet.

Maybe last night was a set back; maybe it wasn't.  I don't have enough perspective on my new way of being yet to fully determine.  The good news is, I'm working on it.  Working harder than I can adequately express.

Slowly but Surely

Down another 2.4 lbs.  Not stellar--not horrible.  I'll take it.

Truthfully, my immediate reaction was "are you freakin kidding me?!?"  And honestly, if I could give back the 2.4 lbs and get back my week of working out 8x and eating like a rabbit, I would truly consider it.  No really, I would.

The word on the street is that I am gaining muscle.  And lemme tell ya, I'd better be--with all of the sweating I do in that training gym.

In other news, I am almost rid of my fear of the ball and the box.  I still cringe every time I see one or the other, but I'm pretty sure I whine less when asked interact with the dreaded apparatus (unless it involves hopping, of course).  Now THAT is progress!

A Wise Man Once Said

The village that it apparently takes to get me fit has officially expanded.  I am so very appreciative to all of the folks who have taken the time to pass along words of wisdom and support.  Means more to me than you know, especially on the days when the challenge seems most daunting.

I received some particularly poignant feedback to my last post from my trainer; a take on the sitch definitely worth sharing.

A wise man once said:

A point system is like a ghost in a machine.  It's impossible to eat and be 100% aware or sure of your final tally.  The tally only works before you eat, not after.  Here is what I learned from your blog:

 

1)  You are learning restraint from the simple fact that you passed on a second glass of wine, pecan pie, and I'm sure many other things, too. In the past, that would not have happened.  Gold Star!

2)  You made a conscious effort to eat less and smart at a holiday meal when NO  ONE usually diets or even tries to eat smart.  Gold Star!

3) You approached the meal with the mindset of eating right and sticking with the plan.   Gold Star!

4)  So, you did learn at this meal not to trust your eye or your satiety.  We all know satiety hits at the point when we have already consumed a freight car. 

 

By my tally, that's 3 Gold Stars!!

 

Bottom line:  I think you're doing great.  This meal taught you some extras...that's all.  

 

Keep the feedback comin!  Means the world to me!!!

Had Myself a Merry Little Christmas

Had a lovely Christmas lunch yesterday.  Yes, I'm aware that I'm a Jew--the Jew who loves X-mas!

As I may have mentioned, Weight Watchers operates on a points system.  Victims are given a daily number of points  that they then eat away at (double entendre intended).  The number of points that you receive are based on weight--let's just say that I have a pretty sizable number of points in comparison to, well, everyone.

Without boring you with all of the eating details, I left Christmas lunch feeling like I had done an exceptional job at restraint.  To ensure that Christmas lunch would be at least somewhat healthful, my fam volunteered to bring the main course--turkey chili. I staved off a second glass of wine and turned a mostly blind-eye to the pecan pie. There was no way I was gonna have trouble with exceeding my daily points.

(Not so) Famous last words.

I went home and entered my food into the master tracker with a proud grin on my face---I must have done soooooooo well!  WRONG.  As I entered each virtuous morsel and watched the point tally climb, my smile faded to a grumpy face.  This prompted me to do a similar exercise with what I would have eaten, had I not done the whole life change thing.  Scary.

The end result: the realization that THIS is why I am fat.

The concept that I formerly had of portion size, food values, and truly healthful foods was off the rails.  Add to that a love of socializing over late nite food/ drink and not as much of a zeal for working out and you've got, well, me.

Who says you have to be in the Jesus camp to learn something at Christmas!

The Music of the Night

It's 3:30amish.  And in my former life, I'd have just been returning from a night out--insanely over priced sushi, couple o' bars featuring martinis for $15+, late nite grub.  God that was fun.

Not exactly how it went down this evening.  One thing they don't tell ya about on The Biggest Loser is the whole waking up in the middle of the night aching all over thing.  I mean, it's totally logical--I went from fairly sedentary to gym rat in the span of a month--I should be sore.  I'm even kinda proud of it, to tell ya the truth.

This particular night, I woke up to an oddly topical infomercial.  As I was lying here cursing lactic acid, a montage of folks who have all lost 15+ lbs per week floats across the screen.  I scrambled for the volume up button.  It's some program that guarantees that you will lose 100+lbs in 7-12months whilst working out 40 min per week using some rubber bands.

You have no idea how much I wish that this program was "for real."  It's the swiftness of weight loss that I covet more than anything.  The working out I can deal with.  The eating like rabbit I can also stomach (ha, get it--"eat"..."stomach").  It's the sheer determination that my ample fat cells have to remaining on my body that is utterly infuriating.  3 lbs per week vs 15 lbs per week--huge difference.

Earlier this evening my mom mentioned to me that what she enjoys most about my blogs is that the majority of entries start with bitching and end with a relatively insightful moral (not exactly her words).

In this particular case, the espousing of a moral would be premature.  I mean, the moral clearly is something having to do with there being no silver bullet...the value of the journey...the importance of working hard for what you achieve.

I'm just not there yet.  If there was a silver bullet--I'd take it.  If I could skip this particular journey and end up svelte and fit--sign me up.

I do believe that it is highly likely that I will feel quite the opposite once I have successfully reached the top of the mountain.  I embrace this and moreover, am counting the minutes.

Hoping to Hop

Professionally and personally I have by en large always come from a place of "can do".  Physically--not so much.

For those of us in the less-than-fit set, a lot of time is spent making excuses for not being able to do various physical activities.  "Yeah, I'm just not that into skiing--don't like the cold"....."Roller coasters are sooooo not my thing--afraid of heights"...."I WOULD play on the work softball team, but I have to dust my shelves on Tuesday nights"...etc, etc, etc......

An interesting aspect of the gym, especially working with a trainer, is that there is no space for excuses.  You either can do or can't do--if the latter, it is very clear why.

This became acutely evident to me yesterday when I was asked to do this hopping over a half-ball maneuver.  I am currently just about as good at hopping as you would think.  The interesting thing was, try as I might, I just could not come up with an excuse.  I simply just was not fit enough.  UGH.

The more interesting thing was my reaction.  Naked without diversionary excuses, I immediately became ornery and self deprecating--neither of which solved my hopping problem.  Both of which made me feel immature and silly, in retrospect.

So, I went and did cardio twice today.  It it highly likely that I will face this situation again sooner rather than later.  However, it is incumbent upon me to ensure that it will not always be this way.

One day I will hop.

Gold Star

Well, it's official.  I received my first Weight Watchers gold star.  Apparently WW gives you a gold star sticker for every 5 lbs that you lose--who knew (insert kindergarten flashbacks here).

So, I'm down almost 7 lbs at present.  Not entirely gold star worthy, I would say, but not coal in your stocking either.  

I'm sorta proud of my measly 7 lbs.  Mostly b/c it signifies that my body has gotten with the program and is now on the same page as my mind.  Or maybe it's b/c it represents my victory over the ball, the box, the half-ball, and my warm covers that do a pretty darn convincing job of talking me into not abandoning them at 6:15am. Or perhaps it's b/c it's easier to justify putting one's career and social life on hold when one has something to show for it.

For today, I'm choosing to ignore the fact that at this rate I'll be approximately 95 years old before I reach my goal weight.  And frankly, it's my right to remain blissfully naive--after all, I AM still basking in the glow of my brand new gold star!

To Sweat or Not to Sweat-That is the Question...

Apparently sweat is passe at my training gym.

I conducted an informal survey of the situation over the last several sessions.  To my dismay, I discovered that no one sweats.  I'm not kidding.  If I were to remove myself from the equation, there would be literally zero sweat-ers out of throngs of gym folk.

I don't get it.

Upon further examination, it also seems that it is utterly uncool to show any sign of physical exertion at all.  In addition to being bone dry, my gym cohorts sache around the floor as if it is recess in high school.  I'm not suggesting that they aren't working hard.  QUITE THE OPPOSITE.  That's what baffles me. They are busting their asses whilst appearing that they are out for a lovely Sunday stroll.

Let's just say that I don't exactly fit this mold.  A gym debutant I am not.

In other news, the box and the ball (which you may remember are far from my favorite) did not beat me today.  In a shocking turn of events, I was the victor of week 3-round 1.  Take that!!

In the Groove

I pulled my neck.  NAPPING.  Yes, I said it.  I work out 8+ times per week, and the way I injure myself is whilst in blissful slumber.

I clearly seem to be adjusting to my new lifestyle nicely.  In addition to the aforementioned, my day looks like this:

(1) hour dealing with the dogs
(1) hour with the trainer
(2) hours napping
(3) hours watching tv
(1) hour at coffee with friends
(1/2) hour at the gym
(2) hours at happy hour/ dinner
(4) hours doing misc. hygiene/ eating/ transportation related items
remainder....sleeping!

I could get used to this!!!!

Balls and Boxes

Balls and boxes, specifically the sort found in the gym, are my nemesis.  Interacting with them always seems to require a degree of balance that I certainly do not have.  I'd even argue that they necessitate a type of motion that is decidedly unnatural.  I mean, when was the last time that you saw a hyroglific depicting a human standing on a ball doing squats.

Incidentally, both the ball and the box also seem to bring out the worst in me.  Believe it or not, I am generally pretty amiable during my training sessions.  I think it has something to do with the notion that the trainer clearly knows what is best for me--and cheating at the gym is only cheating myself.  Ok, ok...in all honesty is it probably more because it is just not smart to piss someone off who has my fate in his hands for 3 hours a week.

Regardless, the fun-friendly Aryn seems to fly (or limp, as the case may be), out the window when a ball or box enters my sightline.  It takes every bit of self control to stifle the belligerence that wells up as the dreaded apparatus comes nearer.

Fortunately, my trainer has the patience of a saint.  He humors my mini-tantrum (I'm exaggerating a bit) and promptly compels me to commence whatever unnatural motion he deems necessary to inflict upon me.  Needless to say, once I have completed the task at hand, I'm as proud as proud can be--it's the little things, I suppose.

In other news, I lost 2.8 lbs last week.  It's a start (and a big improvement over my .4 lbs the week prior)!!

Resilience

I have this almost perfect pug--she's a bit bow legged, a tad mischievous, and highly vocal.  This almost perfect pug of mine had to have surgery this week for her not so perfect cancer.

After the surgery finished we get a call from the doc.  Apparently, a half hour after being slit open like a hot dog, the poor little pug is bouncing around and wagging her tail as if nothing had happened.  We were then informed of how critical it was for us to keep her calm for the next 5 days--a feat that the vet clearly had not mastered.

This morning I awoke as usual and grumpily put my gym clothes on (as usual).   As I was corralling her out to do her business--begging her to not chase her tail, jump on my leg, or go charging after a squirrel--I scolded myself for being such a wuss.

If a 16.3 lb pug can be spunky less than 24 hours after a pretty heinous procedure and with enough drugs in her to lay me out for days, I can manage to make it 30 minutes on the elliptical and stave off a pizza.  It's kinda funny sometimes where we pull lessons from!

Lean Back

I suppose that the most difficult part of going to the gym is supposed to be the physical exertion.

Sooooo not the case for me.  The hardest part for me is trust.  Trusting that I can do the various exercises I am challenged with, without collapsing....trusting that not everyone in the entire gym is watching me look ridiculous...trusting that the sickeningly fit housewife next to me and Mr. Muscle World 2010 on the other side of me aren't judging my current state of being....trusting that the trainer is not thinking "jesus christ, how in the hell did she let herself get this out of shape to begin with"....trusting that I can lean all the way back without falling off the machine......and the list goes on....

In addition to the challenge I put forth last week of not bitching whilst in training mode, this week I am also determined to work on the whole trust thing.  Partly b/c fearing the gym is sooooooo not my style--or at least not what I want my style to be.

Rather ironically, it seems that I can't move forward in reaching my goals without learning to lean back.

Un-Blah

Today I am un-blah.

Two solid workouts yesterday.  The easiest two yet.  Well, except for the surge of soreness every time I moved my arms or legs---but it was GOOD PAIN.  No, really.  It actually was.

My trainer gave me the option of wussing out on my session today.  I think he was afraid he broke me.

Before I continue, anybody want the over-under on whether I took the out today??????

Of course I went.  And it was just ducky.  Well, that may be an exaggeration...but I got a solid sweat on.

My goal for next week is to cut the bitching while moving from machine to machine.  Now THAT'S something to start a pool on.  Your guess at my success is as good as mine.......

Blah

Today I am blah.

I'm thinkin the excitement of starting my adventure has worn off and the reality of centering my life around self betterment has set in.

I mean, who wants to think about all of the zillions of things that they want to change about themselves all day.  Sounds fun, right?

Well, that's not entirely true.  In between pondering self improvement, I can be found on an elliptical, walking in the park, upside down with a trainer standing over me (and not in a fun way), coercing people into exercising with me, or counting the points of every morsel of food that I even consider entering my mouth.

I know, I know...I'm very fortunate and all that jazz.  AND I AM.  Today, I'm also blah.

Is This a JOKE????

.4 lbs.  I said it.  I lost .4 lbs.  Not 4....point 4. After working out 10 times in 7 days and eating substantially less than my allocation.  .4 damn it.

According to the experts, APPARENTLY my body thinks I am stuck on a deserted island based on the lack of calories I am eating--and it's holding onto my ample fat with dear life.  Also apparently my working out in excess has only compounded the problem, as I am needing to ingest still more calories to offset the exercise.

Speaking of compounding the problem.....

My mother lost 2.6 lbs.  This is after having a veritable Mexican fiesta on Saturday night...and dipping into her flex points almost daily.  Good for her.  Rah Rah.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

Oh, and the trainer was fine.  More on that after I stop weeping about my meager needle movement.

Big Day

Tomorrow is a big day.  It's the first day of my brand new trainer as well as marks completing week one of WW.  I am HOPEFUL that both will go swimmingly....but am fairly certain that both will kick my ass.

I guess that the proof will be in the pudding when I get weighed in tomorrow.  That aside, it seems to have been a pretty successful week--I managed to stay on track on both the working out and eating fronts.  In regards to the former, I worked out 6 out of 7 days...twice on 2 of the days.  I won't be in marathon shape anytime soon, but it's certainly an improvement over my previous 11 month cardio hiatus.

Comida was ok-a.  I stayed on plan each of the days, complete with not gnawing my arm off or throwing an adult tantrum. Even went to a Hanukkah party sans muzzle.  

Oh, and I got a cute haircut. 

It Takes a Village

They say that it takes a village to raise a kid.  In my case, it also seems to take a village to get fit.

Exhibit A:

-Mom: exercise partner; Weight Watchers buddy; overall partner in crime
-Dad: occasional exercise partner; blah tasting food guru; general cheerleader
-Grandma: WW buddy; official worrier
-Aunt Da Da: sage advice giver
-Sake the Pug: now too fat for her collar;  the dog is on a diet too!
-Auntie M: week day park walking companion; food czar
-Friend E.S.: relayer of messages that Mom wants someone else to tell me; weekend park walking companion
-Assorted Friends of Mom: cheerleaders

And that's just week 1.......

Kidding Me

Alllrighty.  It's time for the "balance" portion of my blog.  In this particular instance, "balance" takes the shape of dating.

Oh, and there is bound to be TMI (too much information) in this installment--if you are squeamish (or my parents), this would be a good one to skip.

Anyhow.

So, I went out on this date last Sunday.  Yes, I am aware that I had only been in the city 3 days at that point.  Why waste time?!?

The long and the short is.....why in God's name would a guy INITIATE good night kissing after a 3 hour date if he is, in fact, NOT at all interested.

And how do I know he's not into it.  Well, silly, the douche didn't call.  That's right.  Radio silence.  A make-out session with no intention of moving forward.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????  I want my saliva back.......

Routine

Well, folks.....looks like I've found myself somewhat of a routine: elliptical 6 days a week+ parking (park walking) 3 days a week+ taste free eating.  Ok, so the last part isn't 100% true, but is fairly accurate; esp. as compared to the Diners, Drive Ins and Dives tour from SF to Houston that immediately preceded this quest.  Now THAT was a good time.

The routine is certainly kicking my ass---I'm equally certain that it's in a good way.  Not that I'm enjoying it mind you--it's sorta like going to the dentist.

Now that I'm on my way to being all set with the healthy habit thing, perhaps I should figure out what to do with the other 22 hours of the day.

Just the thought wears me out--I think I'll leave that for tomorrow.

Torture Chamber

First day of Weight Watchers.

The plan itself is ingenious---convert a thousand or so calories into a handful of points so that our little minds can comprehend what we are eating in a day.  Makes total sense.

The meetings--less so.

Now, I've sworn up and down to give the meetings a chance.  So, I will.  HOWEVER, I am honestly not sure how much I can take of AA for fat people.

I was pretty convinced that the primary torture would be in the form of a weigh in. Think-- "I starved myself for a week while elliptical-ing non stop...how in the hell did I end up 2 pounds up."

Nope.  Definitely not the worst part.  The portion that makes me want to rip my ears off is the sharing.  I TRULY do not care what the stranger next to me did with her Thanksgiving leftovers.  Nor do I have any delusions that the stranger cares that I somehow managed to not have even one sip of adult beverage this T-day (and a cheer goes up in the crowd).

I suppose I could look at it as motivation to take this freakin weight off so that I can get the dickens out of here!

Sunday Funday

Sunday WAS a funday....I took a break from le gym.  Primarily due to being broken from the previous day.  I rationalized it by embracing the recommendation the fitness gurus have of taking one day a week off--I don't think they meant take a break after 2 days.

Incidentally, they say that having a partner in crime increases the likelihood of success by a zillion percent or whatever.  Here's how it went for me yesterday:

Aryn: Ohhhhhh my body huuuuuuurts.
Mom: Yeah, I don't feel like going either.  And we ARE supposed to take it easy one day a week.
Aryn: Ok, let's skip it.

Oh well.  Back to it today.

Learnings

Apparently, one who has not worked out in roughly 11 months should not begin with an elliptical ride significantly above one's fitness level followed by a three mile jaunt in the park in 4 year old tennis shoes.  The result is as should have been expected--I am now walking like I am 95.  

In other news, the food part is easier than expected.  Aiming for 1200 calories a day--and came under than both days thus far.  Though under is not optimal, it's better than over,  I'm thinkin.  Prolly would be even easier if I wasn't strangely drawn to the Food Network.  As long as I don't start licking the screen, I figure it can't do much harm.

Have no fear, broken in body but not spirit.  Will fight back on Day 3!

And So It Begins.....

Today is Day 1 of the development of Aryn v 3.2.  A little bit o'background is warranted.
-About a month ago I voluntarily said sayonara (or at least catch ya later) to a pretty swell gig. Yes, I am aware of the current state of the economy.
-A week ago I left San Francisco (and the vast majority of my possessions) in my rear view mirror.  SF is truly, without a doubt, one of the world's greatest cities.
-I left a guy in the rear view as well.  Tear.
-Today I finished unpacking my stuff in my place of temporary residence--my childhood bedroom.  Sexy.

And so, my quest towards fitness and general balance begins.  I'm pretty sure most of the time it's gonna suck.  HOWEVER, some entertaining posts are a sure thing.

Lookin forward to sharing the ups and downs of the journey with ya.