Working It Out

For years now, since before JT was born, I’ve had a commitment to working out.  I lift weights, I walk, and and I run on an elliptical machine.  I do other things from time to time but the elliptical has been my go-to activity for years.  I’ve made time for working out because of the payoff I experience: I sleep better, I like my body more, I have more energy and strength to do all the other activities that make my life happy.

Since I took the administrative and teaching job I now have, one I started on the eve of JT’s entry into some very busy high school years, it’s sometimes been hard to find the time to work out.  This year, with JT in college and less immediate demands on my time, I’ve gotten back into a consistent work out routine.  Even when I am tempted to curl up with a cat on my lap and a good book, on workout days I come home, change clothes, and turn right around to leave for the gym.

While I run, I work out the leavings and half-finished thoughts in my mind.  I find myself able to solve problems that have stymied me; write sentences or ideas that will pay off down the line; and generally feel better.  Some workouts are easier than others; some days it’s more of a struggle than I would like.  But the payoff is always the same and I’m grateful for that every single time.

Round and Round

My wonky hip discomfort in January was diagnosed as bursitis and resulted in two weeks of no work outs followed by two more weeks of physical therapy.  Only then was I authorized to get back on the elliptical at the gym.  Consultations with the orthopedist and the physical therapist sent me back to the gym with a new workout plan. Pro-tip:  running up hill with a high resistance on the elliptical is quite a strain on aging hips.  Also, according to my doctor, "nuts."  That's a clinical diagnosis, folks.

I weathered the period of less activity much better than I expected and still (mostly) have my sanity, which is likely pleasing to those who are forced to deal with me on a daily basis.   On the day I was able to get back on the elliptical, I was practically giddy as I stretched out my achilles (a remnant of the last elliptical injury), fired up my favorite workout playlist, and got ready to run.  

I started slow and enjoyed the sensation of my muscles warming up to that familiar rhythm.  Within a mile, I settled into a comfortable pace.  By mile two, I felt peace descend over me. I had so missed the build up and attendant release on the other side of a good run.  That night, I went to bed pleasantly tired.  I woke up the next morning and stepped gingerly out of bed only to find that my hip felt just fine.

So I'm back in business, albeit well-aware of the need to look after myself and heed the warnings of sore or strained muscles.  That is serious progress for me.   It would seem that an old dog can be taught a few new tricks.

Back to School Workout

No matter how much I prepare in advance, the month of September is exhausting.  Though I'm excited to be back in school, the return to our regularly scheduled programming makes me weary.  Gone are relaxed wake-ups, morning workouts, hours to read, afternoons to cook, and endless time for laundry and gardening.   They are replaced by scheduled mornings, busy days with lessons to teach and papers to grade, athletic practices, supper to get on the table, and laundry, laundry, laundry.  By the time I settle into bed with a book, I'm lucky to read five pages before my eyes close and I drop the book on my face.

Nowhere do I feel the transition as much as in my daily workout.  In the summer, I head to the gym in the morning, usually after a leisurely breakfast and enough coffee to face the day.  I run on the elliptical for as long as I want and then come home for a relaxing shower.  The workout leaves me feeling pleasantly tired but still energized for the rest of the day.  Once I return to work, the schedule is dramatically altered.  Workouts happen after school and nearly always with an eye on the clock because there are still a host of chores to complete before bedtime.  Plus, instead of climbing on a machine with fresh legs, I'm climbing on after being on my feet for most of the last 8 hours.  By the second week of school, I'm so tired by 9 pm that I'm convinced that something is dreadfully wrong.  I head to Dr. Google, prepared to diagnose myself with some immediately terminal condition.

Then I realize I just have Back-to-School-itus, a condition that will start to cure itself by mid-October, when I hit my pace.  Workouts are both a help and a hindrance during this time.  They help by serving as daily stress relief and relaxation and by keeping me strong for the long run.  But my tendency to overdo it (of course I can teach all day and then run five miles this afternoon) can overload my circuits and then the workout is exhausting instead of exhilarating.  This fall, I was determined to set reasonable expectations and a responsible pace for my back-to-school adjustment.  I didn't work out three afternoons in a row and I went easier on myself when exhaustion rolled over me.  I took Friday afternoons off no mater what.  As a consequence, I face the fourth week of school without the need to self-diagnose my exhaustion.

I think this sort of self-awareness is called being a grown-up.  

RIP

Pictured here is my elliptical machine, just before it was released from service due to exhaustion. Not my exhaustion, mind you. 

I've been using an elliptical to workout for a while.  For the last 7 years, I've had one at home.  The advantage of this arrangement is that I could workout whenever I liked.  The disadvantage was that my workouts were never quite perfect.  For one thing, I could be interrupted by a number of domestic issues (from snack provision to bootie-wiping and homework assistance; there was always something).  For another, at-home machines simply cannot generate the same range of workout options as gym-grade machines.  But it was a mandatory compromise: I needed to workout to keep my psyche on an even keel and I needed to do it at home so I could keep an eye on the boy.

Though I longed for a gym membership, I set it aside as a pipe dream.  Then my machine broke, just when I needed it most because JT was scheduled to be at Camp Ex for a week.  As a temporary measure, I scored a free 10 day pass at a local gym.  And I continued the search for a replacement home elliptical.

That didn't go all that well once I realized the range of options at the gym: weights, spin classes, a variety of ellipticals and other cardio machines……..all the features of workout fantasies, should you suffer from this particular affliction.  Shopping for home ellipticals after working out on gym ellipticals was a bit like driving a BMW one day and a Yugo the next.  And I was hooked on the Beamer.

Though I am by no means a selfless person, much of my day-to-day existence is devoted to taking care of other people's needs.  Every once in a while I have a meltdown related to this fact.  A quality workout is a way to care for myself so that I remain capable of caring for others.  It's a way of ensuring my own marginal sanity in a life that I still find difficult. 

So even though JT's detention at Camp Parenting Time has ended for the year, I've still got my gym pass.  JT and I will have to work out the logistics of a workout plan which will now take me out of the house.  No doubt it won't go as smoothly as I would wish.  But it's not a luxury for me to work out and it's long-overdue for me to come first for a few of hours each week.

Running on Empty

In gearing up to write a post about my deceased elliptical (I know…it was dreadful), I jotted down some notes about why I work out in the first place. 

Though my motivational level has varied, I started to work out regularly a few years before I got pregnant with JT.  I liked the way it made me feel and so I continued after he was born.  I don't work out so that I have a svelte figure (and if you could see my backside, you'd vigorously agree).  I don't work out to lose weight.  That would be nice, I guess, but it's not why I run.  I work out to feel good.  It's as simple and as complicated as that.

When my life shattered four years ago, working out went from being desirable to being essential.  For starters, it helped tire out my mind and body and therefore to combat the insomnia that plagued me.  By providing a routine, it gave some meaningful structure to my summer days.  It allowed me to forget the moment-to-moment hell in which my mind felt trapped.  It also helped to keep depression at bay.

As a side effect, I lost some weight (I have no idea how much but none of my clothes fit anymore).  I began to feel stronger; more durable and more tough, both physically and emotionally.  For the first time in my life, I came to regard my body not as an enemy to be conquered but as an ally.  The intensity and duration of my workouts increased.  I went from a 20 minute jog on the elliptical to a 55 minute run.  I used the time to relax and let my thoughts wander.  My daily workout became an opportunity to think creatively; to brace for life's difficulties.  And at the moments of greatest stress, running ensured that I could keep going.

In short, I was hooked.  I still am.  So the death of my elliptical was bad news, for both my mental and physical health.   And that's a story for tomorrow.

Sweaty Sanity

Amongst my irrational fears is a fear of body odor.  While my shower was out of commission, I was reluctant to work out and work up a major sweat, feeling that I could not get clean enough to play my role in civil society.  Lest you judge, please recall that I spend my days with teenagers.  I like them, but they are a critical group of people.  I feared a funky smell and exchanges of knowing glances as the students rapidly backed out of my classroom, pinching their noses.

The return of the shower means that I am back to working out every day.  That's a damned good thing because my sanity was hanging in the balance. I knew that my daily hour on the elliptical was time to think, read, and generally sweat out my tensions. I knew that it helped me to sleep through the night.  I knew that it made me feel strong.  But knowing in my mind and knowing in my body were very different.  I missed my workout. 

As of Thursday of this week, I am back to my daily workout.  Rarely have I been so grateful to work up a sweat. Not to mention the glorious post-workout shower. And I have every reason to believe that my sanity is in the process of making a full recovery.

Though this is my version of sanity, so I wouldn't get too excited about that.

Gym Rats

One of the best things about my visits to California is that my sister hooks me up with gym passes and I get to have workouts at the fancy gyms my family goes to. So instead of an hour on my home elliptical punctuated by snack requests and conversations with the boy, I escape, unsupervised to the big girl gyms.

The end result of this, of course, is that I get a hell of a workout. Today, I climbed on the Precor at Dad's gym and took an hour long cross-training tour. When I got off, my legs were wobbly. When that machine says you'll be climbing up a mountain, it means business.

All of this will no doubt come in handy when the boys and I bike on over to the Sonic drive-in later today. Never before have I worked so hard to earn the right to a colossal cherry limeade.

Longest Minute EVER

Last fall when my old elliptical trainer died (sigh), a new elliptical trainer was procured (praise be! tragedy averted). It is a most noble machine, designed for a woman (e.g., no more hyper-extended elbow pain), and it's amazing.

I'm pretty serious about my workouts, running on the elliptical for nearly an hour most days of the week, proceeded and followed by ample stretching (because those two years I spent with a heel spur sucked......not to put too fine a point on it). With the advent of the new machine, I decided to be more systematic (read: anal retentive) about my workouts, following a set regime and switching things up every two months.

The workout I started at the first of the year calls for sprints of 1 minute at regular intervals throughout the workout; a total of 5 sprints in the 35 minute period of the workout when I'm neither warming up nor cooling down. It seemed eminently manageable.

But sweet Jesus, that is the longest minute ever. When my thighs start to burn and I'm convinced that the minute must be over, I'll check the clock only to see that I have 30 seconds yet to go. It's not pretty.

Fast

When I take JT to buy new sneakers, I always have him run down the aisle to check and see if his new shoes are fast. Invariably, they are fast. When he was little he was convinced that the shoes were what made him fast. These days, he knows better. But we still play the game.

I bought some new running shoes on Friday afternoon. A lot of agonizing and trying on went into the decision. I run on an eliptical trainer for 45 minutes a day and shoes make a huge difference. The hold of the heel, cushioning, and space for the toes are all important. I once had a heel spur, no laughing matter, and so I am very careful about my feet.

But all that science and precision went straight out the window once I tried out the new shoes. With their clean white lines, silver stripes, and a touch of pink, my new sneakers make me feel fast. And, as JT can tell you, that's what really matters.