Keep moving forward....

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.
Walt Disney

I just don't see any other way to do it. The years will march by like soldiers in lock step, one way or the other, whether we choose to vegetate on the sofa or we continue to move forward, open those new doors, and do new things. I choose door #3 instead of the couch.

I'll open one of those new doors every month.That's my commitment for 2014, just like it was for 2011 and 2012. (Read about the idea behind this monthly quest here.) I sat out 2013, at least as far as the "something new every month" is concerned, and I could tell the difference. We really do need that sense of anticipation in our lives to keep the DNA as young as possible, to keep us as fresh and interesting as we can be. It's no wonder we get cranky and grumpy as we age.....we've given up being surprised and delighted by anything unique or challenging.

I spend a lot of time at my gym, mostly working out on my own or with my trainer. I'm not fond of group classes, primarily due to the scheduling, since my calendar is different each day. It makes it hard to pencil in a weekly class that meets at the same time and on the same day, when my pencil's eraser is a well-used tool, frequently finding it necessary to smudge out that class at the last minute.

But my brother teaches a TRX class at my gym every weekend. I've been saying I would attend "someday" for months, so in I went the other day to see what the buzz was all about. 

What does TRX stand for, you say? If you called out the word "torture" you would be close.(Actually it stands for Total body Resistant eXercize. Yeah, they had to stretch that a bit to make it work.) It is an acronym for a total body suspension training system. In other words, torture.You spend a lot of time hanging from the ceiling, performing familiar movements, like bicep curls, sit ups, etc in 3 dimensions.

My brother told me in a short intro before class that it would feel weird at first. Well, THAT was an understatement. It felt a LOT weird, especially when I couldn't figure out how to get my feet in the straps and then flip over without my legs twisting. No one else was having that problem. I still haven't figured it out.

It's humbling to feel so uncoordinated and generally inept. But it's empowering to keep at it and not give up. Do we have to be perfect? I gave that quest up years ago. I'll go back to that class next week, inept or not.

All we need to do is show up for life every day, no matter our age. 

What did YOU anticipate today?

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.

Walt Disney

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/w/waltdisney132637.html#hzvO8k6iiCqCflTa.99

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/w/waltdisney132637.html#hzvO8k6iiCqCflTa.99

All about pacing.....

It wasn't a problem for a long time.....decades, actually.


When it became a problem, I didn't recognize it for years.


When I DID recognize it, I attempted to ignore it.


Finally, I accepted it with gritted teeth.


As we age, we find that our minds can outpace rings around our energy levels. At least that's the way it's been for me. In the morning, it sounds great to plan on attending an evening gathering with friends. Sure, why not? I say when I accept the invitation. That sounds like fun, and I like the people going, so count me in.


Oops. By about 4 PM, I realize my mistake. I've worked all day, intellectually at the office and then  physically at the gym, so I'm exhausted from head to toe and back again.

I was stymied by that for a lot of years, feeling as if I was exhibiting the "stick in the mud" mentality I was so often accused of in my 20s and 30s. (For good reason at that point in time, but the person inhabiting this skin isn't the same one who left the building a long time ago and I don't  like to be reminded of those days. I get a tad cranky when I even get a whiff of that phrase today.)


But then I realized that my energy  reserves were no longer at any "stick in the mud" levels (oh, the irony of it all, right?). It wasn't that I was sticking anywhere, to anything. My body simply couldn't keep up any longer. My life has expanded in ways that are often unrecognizable to me as I have aged. I dance, I engage in interval training that involves weight lifting, I seek out new adventures every month. I'm a lot more fun and I have fun in ways that I hadn't even dreamed of when I was decades younger.


I even hate writing this. It hurts. But reality must be faced, and this is it: We have to learn to pace ourselves as we move into the latter decades. (I did NOT say as we "get old," I hope you noticed that.) What that means on a daily basis is that I must view the events of the day, and into the evening, from a longer perspective than my younger years demanded.


If I work all day, hit the gym in the afternoon, and have some writing to do at home before I slide between my sheets to read before sleep, then I can't schedule a dance lesson that particular day. Or I have to change the gym to tomorrow, and dance today. And forget going out at night if I dance OR exercise within the same 24-hour block of day. Not going to happen. 


Yes, it's a hard reality to swallow. But those of you who are younger than me, heed my words here. You may think you are immune to what all of us ultimately face, whether it's cellulite in places you never even thought about or flagging energy levels. You're not. Sure, you can pay to have the lumps removed or buy pricey energy drinks, but the reality is still evident.


Thoreau spoke of keeping pace with our companions, and something about drums. I don't need to stay abreast of those folks. It just takes more energy to keep that drummer in sight at all.

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.
Henry David Thoreau

Blubbering.....

I surrender.

I  toss in the towel, send up the white flag, bow my head in defeat. Pick the cliche you like the best, but I give up.

The layer of blubber that resides over my navel laughs and points at me every time I enter my gym, snickering as I do sit ups until the room starts to spin. I do so many sits up of various kinds (and there are many) that I can't stand up until I put my head between my legs for a few minutes. And the belly fat just hangs on, thrilled that I'm adding some hard muscle underneath its resting place, which only takes up more room in my clothes. Instead of my pant size going down, a logical assumption as I sweat at the gym four or five days a week, the waistbands are getting tighter. All that work mastering the stair machine only made it worse. I have a nice, firm butt and a muscled abdomen with a layer of feisty fat over it.

I Googled "Why can't I lose my belly fat?" this morning and found out that my sit ups are making things worse. It seems that I need to do some hard aerobic work. It even mentioned the age factor....that there isn't one. Darn. I dug out the class schedule for my gym, which was, of course, buried under a mound of paperwork on my desk.

So, I'm not giving in. I'm only giving up my resistance to organized exercise classes, the kind where everyone dances or cycles or steps together at designated times each week. I can choose from cycling, which I tried a month or so ago, and it taught me how not to fall off a bike that is nailed to the floor. Or I can try to the Zumba dance classes where everyone salsas to the beat and looks like they should have fruit on their heads a la Carmen Miranda. I've looked through the door at that one and they do seem to sweat a lot. (But no one has their head between their legs.) A new one is TRX where folks end up hanging from the ceiling on straps, doing push ups and other fun activities with the blood rushing to their heads. Not sure about that one. At all.

All of this goes against my personality as someone who makes her own way in everything from relationships to career to.......well, exercise. But, I'm nothing if not stubborn, and have committed to myself to try something different for a month. I'll work my body until sweat drips in my eyes, if I have to.

I will prevail. Or at least learn how to salsa.

A fat stomach never breeds fine thoughts.

St. Jerome

Jiggles and wobbles....

I exercise. A lot. This isn't something new to me, either. I think I started when I was in my 20s and lived in Denver, at least that's my recollection. (I do remember living in Denver...I'm not THAT far gone yet.) I do think that's when I started going to a gym nearly every day, though.

They had a jacuzzi and a steam room, which are wonderful things to have access to when you live in a really cold climate, I can tell you that. So much so that I eventually bought my own hot tub, which now sits on my screened-in porch. My favorite time to get in that bubbly, steaming water is when it's as cold as it's going to get here in Florida, a throwback to my days in the Rockies. In any case, it's a great treat after a work out.

But to get back to the exercise thing. Someone gives me a workout routine and I go through the paces about 4 times a week amidst other really sweaty people, all trying not to get caught watching one another. I have attacked and mastered that torture machine that makes you climb steps until you know you MUST have reached heaven by the time it stops. I have worked up to over 150 sit-ups in various contortions, can lift more weight than any 62-year old woman has a right to lift, and my arms are toned and buff to prove it (even though the chicken skin thing spoils the buffness a bit). The whole thing has become an addiction for me, not that I'm complaining. There are far worse things I could be addicted to by this time. Believe me.

So, could someone please tell me why my thighs still jiggle and ripple with....well, whatever makes them jiggle and ripple?  I don't overeat, either, so don't even go there. (I changed doctors once over a remark about "pushing back from the table" without even asking about my diet. He just assumed I must be eating too much, the idiot with one less patient now.)

Ask anyone who knows me. I don't eat a lot! And I follow the program of a leading weight management company, one that helped me lose 30 pounds two years ago....and 4 years ago...and 6 years ago. That peskly 30 pounds that started tracking me down shortly after I turned 40 and is determined to hang out on my hips and thighs.

It's gone now, though, and I continue to work out. So, what it is about aging that insists on defying the torture we put our bodies through? Here I am with great arms, shoulders, and back...ripped, even....with this jello on my belly and thighs. Am I doomed to wobble on the bottom?

Well, I'll go to the gym and think about it as I climb those stairs....forever.