Year of the Heifer

I was in the car yesterday afternoon, and I heard a brief interview with a woman who has been an activist most of her life.

I'm pretty sure this is one of those situations where I heard what I needed to hear and not necessarily what she said, but I'm also pretty sure that's how God talks to us sometimes.

What I heard was, "Make a longterm goal and work toward it."

What my heart said was, "Your life is really, really fantastic. You don't want it to change. Because you don't want it to change, you're living in fear that something will happen. You need to put your energy into doing something positive rather than being afraid of some vague, nonexistent negative."

Yes.

I like to make goals. I really like to make goals that I know I can reach. I'm the sort of person who makes lists and includes things that are already finished so I can have the pleasure of marking them off.

This goal, however, needs to be bigger. It needs to be something that I'm not sure I can reach. It needs to be a stretch.

(Warning: This may sound like a small goal to you. If so, please don't tell me.)

I'm going to try to earn enough money through exercise by December 31, 2013 that I can give the Heifer Project $500. 

Photo from Heifer's website here

My usual pay-as-I-exercise guidelines apply:

• For every time I exercise, I earn $1.50.
• If I exercise 4 times in one week, I earn $10 instead of $6.
• If, by some miracle, I work out more than 4 times in a week, I earn $2.50 for each of those additional workouts.

I started doing this because I wanted a reason to get my bum on the treadmill. Having $10/week to spend however I like without worrying about the overall household budget is a good motivation for me.

However, earning enough money that I can buy the equivalent of a cow for someone who does not have such a delightful life that she has to make up goals in order to be fulfilled is much, much better.

I'm starting this week, so I'll have 56 weeks to do this instead of 52. That means that I have to meet my goal of working out four times a week for all but six weeks over the next thirteen months. That's ambitious for someone who loves knitting on the couch as much as I do.

I'm calling it the Year of the Heifer.

Optimism

or, Why not?


Lots of people hate New Year's resolutions, and I understand why.  January 1 is just another day. Nothing magical happens when we flip the calendar and begin writing 2012 on our checks (or, more likely, writing 2011 2012 on our checks).

I get it.  Still, why not be optimistic?


Why not decide to start new habits and reaffirm old habits that have fallen by the wayside? Why not decide to try something new? Why not decide this is the year I'm going to clean out my closet, eat more veggies, and reacquaint myself with the treadmill?

I may not keep my resolutions past January 15, but that's still fifteen days with good habits. There's always the possibility that I will be able to keep them all year.  Why not?

In the spirit of optimism, I say:

• I will begin tracking what I eat on Weight Watchers most days. I'll shoot for 7 days and be thrilled with 5. Weight Watchers works for me. When I stop tracking, I gain weight. When I track, I eat better. So I'll start tracking again, and I will lose weight. Why not?

• I will continue to try to work out at least 4 times a week, and I'll pay myself $10 for every week I succeed. 

• I will try to add variety to my exercise. We are now the owners of a Wii Fit. I've used it two times, and I am sore so it's doing something. I will continue to use the Wii Fit, walk on the treadmill, and go to my yoga class and/or the aquafit class.  

• In a related resolution, I will not let the Wii Fit get me down when it says nasty things about me not working out. It does not know that I am not monogamous to it, and it behaves out of that ignorance. I will not be stymied by a machine.

• I will do exercises on the Wii Fit that strengthen my back and abs because that will help compensate for my wonky spine. I don't like doing them because they are hard, but I will do them because a) they will help my back not hurt, and b) they will get easier. Why not?

As I've thought about my New Year's resolutions, I thought they would have to do with knitting. Apparently they don't. This is what feels important to me right now, which is probably a direct result of holiday eating. (Almond bark pretzels, I'm looking at you.)  I choose to be healthier.

I raise my glass of iced coffee (1 point) to the sky in a toast to a healthier, happier me.  Why not?

Bring it, 2012. I'm ready.

Challenge Update

I thought I'd give you an update about my slightly-altered Vegetarian Times challenge:

Challenges are much more fun in the beginning than they are several days in.

Last Friday was my only slip, and I count it as a sort of slip. I volunteered at an event at which the Dalai Lama was speaking. We met at work at 6:30 in the morning. I didn't bring lunch because I wasn't going inside the building and couldn't figure out what would survive in my car for hours. When we got back a little after noon, I didn't bother eating lunch because it seemed too hard and I didn't want to blow my challenge five days in.

I met Lynn after work--I get off at 3:00 on Fridays--and I went through a terrible drive-through on my way to meet her. I suppose that could count as lunch, but it wasn't until 3:30 and it wasn't at work.

I'm just going to say that I did my best and move on.

Today promises to be another tricky one to maneuver. It's Andrew's birthday, and we have plans for this evening. I had planned to walk for 30 minutes at lunch, but it's pouring. I can't honestly imagine myself walking for 30 minutes around and around the inside of the building, so I'm not sure what I'll do.

It's possible that I'm just going to have to be more flexible than I had originally anticipated. I still plan on trying as hard as I can to meet my goals, but I think there's an important lesson to be learned: I can continue to work toward something even after I am unable to complete it with a perfect record.

This has always been a tricky one for me--When I was in first grade, I cried and cried when I missed one word on a spelling test. That one word meant I couldn't get an A+ on my report card for spelling. My poor first-grade teacher had no idea what to do with this crazy, type A child. She eventually sent me to see my mother, who taught in the same school. If I remember correctly, Mom wasn't quite sure what to do with this crazy, type A child either.

So, maybe it's a blessing if I am unable to walk today.

Of course, it's now stopped raining...

In Which I Try Not To Be Discouraged

2010 is off to a rocky start. Perhaps it doesn't realize that I can trade it in at any time. Hear that, 2010?! You don't straighten up and I'll trade you in a heartbeat. 2008 never gave me this crap.

I made new recipe #1 last night. It was a new baked apple recipe, and I don't like it. It has nutmeg, cinnamon, milk, flour, sliced almonds, Splenda, raisins, and apples. I used Splenda and sliced almonds instead of sugar and pecans, left out cloves, and used whole wheat flour instead of all-purpose. None of those changes should have been a problem. The recipe just wasn't good. I'm guessing there was too much nutmeg perhaps. I have a very tenuous relationship with nutmeg.

I was disappointed, didn't eat more than a couple bites, and have no idea what to do with a 2 qt. casserole dish full of these. It's not that they were bad; they just weren't good.

While new recipe #1 was baking, I got on the elliptical machine. Please note that it has been over three weeks since I worked out. Immediately my legs hurt. It was so immediate that I'm convinced it couldn't actually have been muscular pain. I think my body just realized that I was going to exercise and was trying to stop me. I did half an hour, which is two measley miles and earned me only 2 WW points, and I thought I was going to die.

After dinner, I decided I needed to reseason my cast iron dutch oven, which I love dearly... even though our soup tasted like metal last night. (Another kick in the head.) I carefully read and followed the directions in one of my new cookbooks. Now my entire house smells like smoky oil. Perhaps it worked; I have no idea, but I do know that my house stinks.

This brings me to my point: If you do something good and positive, then only goodness and positive consequences should result. You should feel great after exercising. Your cast iron pots should gleam in the kitchen light without making your house smell. Your new recipes should taste delicious because you made the effort to create them. It's difficult enough to do the things you're supposed to do without having the universe crap on you.

I do attempt to come up with something positive to say, and I've been working on it.

Reseasoning the pot is a good idea, and now it's done.
I did well with my eating plan yesterday.
Working out is good for me, and I am successfully back after my break.
The apples... aren't bad.
I know that I'm cranky and blowing things out of proportion because I'm getting a cold, and since colds are a temporary affliction, I just have to ride it out.

Being positive isn't working very well. Mamma said there'd be days like this.

As a gesture of appreciation for reading my cranky post, here is a picture from when Andrew and I went to a state park last January.



There is beauty in winter. There is beauty in winter. There is beauty in winter.

What Would You Do If You Knew You Could Not Fail?

I have a paperweight with that question engraved on it. About a year ago, I was talking to a friend about it, and I suddenly knew what the answer was.

I would do three things:

I would become a vegetarian.

I would train to run a 5K.

I would meditate daily.

On Saturday, I checked off the second one:









Em and I completed the Jingle Bell Run/Walk. It took us nearly three times longer than the fastest runners. I was, with no exaggeration, passed by both speedwalkers and a woman with a prominent limp.

But we finished, jogging the whole thing, even through the ice slick that was created when the fast people threw their water cups on the ground. By the time I got to the water station (who needs a water station for 3.1 miles?), the water had frozen.

I'm not really a runner, but I'm someone who can look at a runner on the side of the road and understand why she's doing what she's doing. I'm someone who wants to try for something a little bit longer and wants to go a little bit faster--someone who wants to see if I can push myself to be a little bit stronger. I'm someone who makes a crazy goal and follows through.

We're looking for a 10K.

I think I'd better figure out a time to start meditating.

Schoolyard bully

Yesterday we had the whole evening at home, and I was determined to be productive. I worked on entering addresses for Christmas card recipients into a spreadsheet while Andrew walked Dexter. We ate our frozen meals and then did bills. I was getting things together to continue work on Christmas cards when I noticed Andrew futzing around with the remaining treadmill piece.

By "remaining treadmill piece," I mean the main bulk of the treadmill. We had carried the other few pieces upstairs the night before after a comical pick-up in which the sporting goods employees couldn't find the key for the truck on which the treadmill was loaded and then the treadmill box was larger than the dimensions listed. Andrew drove it home squished between the (ever slowly sliding downward) box and the driver's side door, and I sat on top of the backseat squished between the box and that door slumped over so I wouldn't bang my head on the roof every time we hit a bump. We were grateful we live close to the sporting good store... and that we didn't get pulled over.

When we got it home on Tuesday, there were... difficulties getting it out of the car. We persevered, and we managed to get everything upstairs except the main bulk.

I just couldn't carry it. I had visions of us getting halfway up the stairs and then my body giving out and one of us dying a comically tragic treadmill-related death. The box was listed at 200 pounds, and nearly all of that was in this piece.

Although we desparately wanted all the pieces upstairs because that's the kind of OCD people we are, we acquiesced to reason and called a friend. His plan was to come over last night after work and help us haul that bad boy upstairs.

I don't know how to put this. Our friend was called out on a Bow-Related Emergency. Seriously. Bows as in those things made of ribbon that adorn festive packages. Bow-related emergency. It was a valid emergency; it had to do with a live musical production, not a package for Aunt Gertrude, but I did mock him a tiny bit.

So, back to the story. I'm labeling Christmas cards and Andrew is futzing with the hideously heavy piece of treadmill. I ask him what he's doing, knowing the answer. "I really want this upstairs."

..."Do you want help?"

"Sure."

I laugh. "Right. We'll just nip this upstairs. No problem. What would you like me to do?"

"Get on the stairs and steady the top. I'll lift from the bottom and sit it on the first step. You keep it from tipping backwards and killing me. I don't know how difficult that will be."

"No problem. Lift with your legs."

The next thing I know I'm flat on my back on the stairs with a 200 lb. treadmill on me.

"Huh. That was unexpected. Maybe I just wasn't ready for the weight. Let's try this again."

The next time I landed on my bum with the treadmill on top of me. I considered this progress.

I also realized that I had been pushed down and sat on twice by a 200 lb. schoolyard bully. In those situations, struggle is futile (the bully is bigger) and laughter is the only option (as it shows you're not scared of a bully). So I started to laugh. Uncontrollably. For a really long time. While Andrew kept asking, "Are you okay? You don't seem okay. You're laughing like you're in pain. Are you in pain?"

Once I regained control, We lifted the treadmill back up and reevaluated our strategy. We ended up scooting it on its side up the stairs, and we were successful in the end.

Today, my bum and the back of my head hurts. I believe getting healthy is trying to kill me.

Rough Start

A and I went to Dick's Sporting Goods after work yesterday with our instruction manual, tools, and tape measure. Along with Golf Guy, who apparently is an engineer by day and Golf Guy by night, we took the elliptical machine apart enough to fit into our car. It took awhile, but it could have been much worse. There's also a broken spot I found on the frame, but I believe duct tape will fix that and add a bit of character at the same time.

We got it home and began carrying the pieces up to the loft. The final piece is the main bulk of the machine (minus arms, electronic piece, various plastic parts, and a gallon ziploc full of hardware). I carried the bottom while A went backwards up the stairs.

I am sorry to report that A has no latent telekenetic ability. If he did, I'm confident it would have shown up last night as his mind attempted to protect his body from damage.

I have tried to figure out how to express that trip up the stairs. I just can't.

Heavy.

So very heavy.

Later in the evening I began feeling tenderness in my neck and shoulders. Last night it woke me up. This morning I seriously contemplated whether showering was worth the pain. (You'll be pleased to note that I decided it was.) My shoulders and neck are... well, they.... never mind.

My current plan is to take ibuprofen every 4 hours and ignore it the best I can.

We're off to a rough start, the elliptical and I.

$19.99/month

A and I have joined the ranks of those who purchase exercise equipment. We are determined (as I'm sure all purchasers are) not to join the almost equally strong ranks of those who then use these pieces of equipment as coatracks.

We are not completely new to this. We bought a Gazelle, which we both used faithfully for nearly a year. However, we bought the Gazelle for $30 off eBay, so that didn't feel nearly as rife with commitment as this.

I blame Daylight Saving Time. I hate it with my whole heart. (Well, not my whole heart. Part of my hatred is reserved for other important things such as irrational people, violence, and meatloaf.) I run after work. Thanks to DST, it is dark fifteen seconds after I arrive home. As a result, I'm not running except on the weekends. This is not a good training plan for someone who's doing her first 5K on December 12.

I went to a friend's house and tried her treadmill. I hate treadmills--not as much as meatloaf or DST--but I hate them. They make me feel like I'm going to fall off the back, even when I'm tethered to it by that little cord. They make me feel trapped. They make me scared. A runner at work said she uses an elliptical machine to work out when it's too cold/wet/dark to run outside. I've used one in college and while living at our second apartment, and I enjoy them... as much as I enjoy exercising, that is.

A, however, likes treadmills and hates elliptical machines. You see where this is going.

We bought a treadmill and an elliptical machine--both severely discounted. The elliptical machine is a discontinued floor model, and the treadmill was discounted as a pre-Black Friday special. The prices made it reasonable if we will use them, and I am optimistic enough to believe we will.

But, just in case, I think we should offer a gym membership to our spare room. You may choose to use either piece of equipment for the low, low price of $19.99/month (no prorate, no refunds, 1 year contract).