Monday, December 29, 2008

Fabulous!

The gashes on my hands and fingers (from opening the horrible plastic packaging on children's toys) have nearly healed so, I can type once again... I start this post after receiving my first ever "blog award"--nice way to end the year, eh? Still considering myself new to the blogosphere, I was thrilled--thrilled!--to get called out by Mark Salinas, fellow Minnesotan and blog daddy,  as one of five fabulous blogs. Yeah!
fabulous_blog_award.jpg
Now, as the "Fabulous Blog Award" rules go, I have to pass the award on to five blogs I think are fabulous. My oh my, and this is hard because, as I mentioned I'm new to the blogosphere and have just begun to scratch the surface. There are many fabulous blogs, which many of my readers are already familiar, so I'm going to try to branch out a little and hit some you may not have clicked over to just yet. And so my "Fabulous Blog Awards" go to:

Mothers Who Write: My first shout out goes to my writing coach/editor/mentor/friend, Kate Hopper. Without her, I wouldn't be blogging. Without her, I wouldn't have a web presence. She prodded me to get online and so, here I am (I can be shamed into anything). But that's not why I've chosen her. I love reading her blog because she's a wonderful story teller. I am in awe of her writing and hope that by continuing to take her classes and reading her words I can become a better writer too. It's just a different kind of training for me. 

Ironing it Out: This is Dimity McDowell's new blog after her stint blogging over at the Runner's World blog, "Marathon Moms." As a fellow freelance writer I've always enjoyed reading Dimity's work, which seems to pop out at me because of her name. I just love her name. Say it with me: Dimity McDowell. Now repeat three times. Such a lovely Scottish (or so I presume) lilt. Aside from having name envy, she is another outstanding writer, and even though we've never met, I feel a certain kinship with her because she is living my mama-writer-athlete balancing act.

Culinary Competitor: I've mentioned this website before, but it's worth highlighting again. I love visiting the intersection of triathlon and cooking that I find at Culinary Competitor. Their recipes are glorious and they speak my language (check this out from their latest post: "A zester, like the neglected and unshaven legs of a cyclist during the winter months, is smooth and seamless when stroked in one direction, but will cause irreparable damage to citrus peels, hard cheese and tender knuckles when stroked the other way..."). Fun and yum stuff.

Fitness for Mommies: I've recently started hitting up Rachel's blog and find a kindred spirit here, too. One of the main reasons I like her blog is her inclusion of her children and family fitness. One of the important aspects about my fitness that I've discovered since having kids is that it's not enough for me to be fit; I want my children to be fit, too. She gets that.

Mama Likes: Oh my goodness. When Mama Likes wrote a comment on one of my recent posts that included the story of her son asking her if the baby in her tummy farted after she belched, and then I repeated this story several times over to people, I knew I needed to read more. And so I did. And laughed out loud even more. I'll admit, I kinda sorta like potty humor. I know, I know, I'm 40 now. But the truth is I don't trust people who don't laugh at fart jokes. So, let me whet your appetite with this post about a Spin class

Well, too bad I could only name five. I've left out a few good friends and some faithful blogs, but you know who you are. Enjoy the reads in between your workouts. 

Monday, December 22, 2008

Unexpected Outcomes, Part II

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday NEW BIKE!?!?
Can you say new motivation for post-partum fitness? 

When I wrote my last post I thought the week of "surprises" were over. Hardly. Life IS a box of chocolates and even at 40 I am so hopelessly gullible. So the unexpected outcomes continued. I'll be starting from the most recent...

You don't need a surprise party to be surprised. With a birthday four days before Christmas my mother always took great pains to make it special for me. After I grew up and moved away from home I realized a big birthday celebration during the holidays was only going to happen if I made it happen. Oh, and I did. Girlfriends and I gussied up in cocktail dresses and hit our favorite bar. This was not a fancy bar, or a bar with a dance floor, or an organized limbo contest, but so? When I met my dear husband he took over where my mom left off (you realize this is saying volumes about my husband, right?) He has a birthday splurge sickness and I'm here to tell you I don't ever plan on curing him of it. Even though this was a big birthday, considering my condition, I fully expected low key. And it was low key, and yet full of big surprises. For one he compiled a birthday book of email wishes from family and friends and this-is-your-life photos. I love this book, especially because it made me feel like I was celebrating with all these people, many of whom are spread around the country and some I haven't seen in way too long. For as long 
as I can remember he's made me a homemade carrot cake and this year, he paired it with a bottle of "Kara's Vineyard" Cabernet Sauvignon. Yes, I had a glass last night and yes, I've had a piece of cake for breakfast this morning (what's the difference between a piece of carrot cake and a carrot muffin? Answer is nothing.) I was completely satiated with birthday surprises by then (presents also included maternity jeans that don't end up in a puddle around my knees--heaven!) but he wasn't done. He lured me into the kitchen under the guise of "look what our dog did now." This was easy to fall for, along with the Halloween candy debacle, our sweet yet naughty dog also recently destroyed a gingerbread house and two wrapped presents. So imagine my surprise when I saw the beautiful blue Orbea Diva. Yes, the bike is really named Diva. I was Speechless. Stunned. I expected to take a by this triathlon season. Now JLo and her postpartum triathlon have nothin' on me! Can I breastfeed in the transition area?

Out of the mouths of babes. Fortunately I'm not here to share anymore stories from my children (but you should take a look at the comments from the last post for a very funny story by another reader...) This babe happens to be my younger sister. All week long I had been trying to put a finger on how I felt about turning 40. I couldn't find the words. Me, wordless. She, who always claims she isn't a writer, found the words for me. This was her email (sorry Erin, you're getting published whether you like it or not:-)

Since most of my friends have already turned 40, they all say that there is something invigorating about turning 40. I think it is an acceptance of who they are. Anyway I want to see pictures of you celebrating your 40th dancing in a church--with child. Come to think of it, that sounds much better than drinking at a club with a bunch of lost souls waiting for someone to show interest in them. Enjoy your day!

Invigorating! Yes! Acceptance! Yes! Dancing at church with child! Yes! This one's for you, sis.
Trust your friends, except the week of your birthday. Here's how it went down: Workout Partner Pam asked if I could babysit her kiddos Friday night. Of course, right? I was to arrive at 7:15. I imagined I'd get her girls ready for bed, read a story or two and then retire to the living room (where she always keeps a bowl of good chocolate) to read my own book for the night. Nice. I had spent the day hunkered down at home. I never found the time--no, need--to shower that day. I left the house wearing the sweat pants I had worn for two days (this is why those new maternity jeans were so meaningful), a race t-shirt, no make-up and a tea bag stashed in my coat pocket. My husband--who has been in cahoots with Pam all week--only stopped me to wipe up the toothpaste that had dribbled onto the belly of my shirt. Thanks. So, you know what happens, right? I'm not there to babysit. I'm there for pizza, wine, and Pam's famous chocolate mousse cake along with several other friends. To be fair they were all wearing sweats, too, but the cute matchy kind with proper accessories. I felt like I had just been caught on an episode of "What Not to Wear." The ascerbic, but spot-on fashion know-it-alls are forever tsk-tsking women about "all day lounge wear." The unsuspecting woman says, "But it was 2 a.m. and I was going to Wal-Mart," and they shake their heads and throw the sweats in the trash. I felt their shame. But there was Pam at the ready with a new shirt that she whipped up (creative bitch, and I mean that with all the love in the world), with "40 and Fabulous" emblazoned on the front). I wore it Friday night, to our neighborhood party Saturday night and again at my "friends and family" party on Sunday (see below). Now I understand why my daughter chooses to wear her Spiderman t-shirt over and over and over again.


Don't anticipate outcomes. Yes, I wrote those words in Friday's post, but I had to make, no force, myself to stick to my newfound wisdom when I woke up that very midnight with a barfing child. All sorts of things were going through my mind, among them: We've only had this new carpet one week! I admit, not the most motherly thought... But as I'm bathing her and my husband is starting what will be the first of many loads of laundry, I start to wonder when the next child will begin spewing Spaghettios. I harkened back to four years ago when the whole family got sick with a stomach bug, even my visiting parents. They were to come up a few days after Christmas, would they still want to come? Would I be barfing on my birthday? My mind was reeling, but I had to shut it down. I had one, one, sick kid. That's all. I felt terribly sorry for her, but it was not as bad as the doomsday scenario I had created for my future. I stuck to the experience I was experiencing and vowed only to deal with that, not expectations. Any veteran mom will know how hard that was, because if you have more than one child, you know how rare having only one sick child is. Still, I didn't anticipate outcomes and what I got was a miracle. Nobody else got sick. 

So I started the weekend with the very low expectation that I would not have to clean up barf on my birthday. I'd say I did much better than that. I am one lucky woman and I am fully aware of my bounty. I would never have expected six months ago that this blog and you, my readers, would be part of my life's bounty. But you are. Thank you for that and here's to unexpected outcomes. May your outcomes for the holidays and, especially the New Year, be wonderful, surprising and miraculous!



Thursday, December 18, 2008

Unexpected Outcomes

Yucky Monkey: Too bad you can't smell it.

This past Sunday I sidled up next to one of my daughters in a pew at church. We were late, of course, and I was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. But five-year-olds have a knack for drawing attention. "Mommy," she said, in her not-as-quiet-as-a church-mouse voice. "Your breath..."

Let me pause a moment here before I continue on with what she said within hearing range of several rows to our front and back.

As adults we get pretty cocky about expected outcomes. Because of so many years of experience, perhaps even some redundant patterns or history, we think we know it all, are wise souls. We're not, really. As I creep closer and closer (by the day, people) to turning 40, I'm reminded that I must stop trying to anticipate my future: whether that be my life's "plan" or the very near, near future, such as what will surely come out of my darling's sweet mouth. 

This particular daughter is always quick to point out my skanky breath. Sometimes she's subtle about it. "What did you eat?" she'll ask innocently enough. Or, she'll just try to be helpful: "Mom, you need to brush your teeth." I do believe I have good oral hygiene habits, but she tends to catch me in between meals.

And while I mentioned above that we were running late for church, I did manage to brush my teeth. Still, I expected a reprimand from her. So, I about shouted "Amen!" when she concluded her sentence with: Good! -- "Mommy, your breath smells good!"

With that I was reminded that I don't always know how even the predictable aspects of my life will play out. I was aware of this all week:

The Weaning of Yucky Monkey: This, my youngest daughter's transitional object, became more like a compulsive addiction. When we couldn't find it on Monday I feared the absolute worst. There hasn't been a day in her entire life that she has been without Yucky. We weathered the first night (and when I say "we" I mean "we") unexpectedly well. Incredibly well. Had I known this, I would have started the weaning a long time ago.

Back to Barbells: I've been trying not to whine about it, but my low back has been near unbearable for the better part of three weeks. I have used everything in my arsenal to reverse the pain, but short of giving birth, I figured I was to be in pain-management mode for the next two months. Finally, by Tuesday, I felt... normal. I was itching to get back to barbell strength class, and I did (but wasn't a martyr, I modified as necessary!) but feared a tail bone revolt. Never happened. I'm back to feeling unbelievably great and the babe is still with me.

Soccer Suprise: My girls had been looking forward to a soccer class at the gym for days. They've never played on a team, just kicked the ball around with friends, but because every other child on the planet plays soccer, and thus they want to as well, I was hoping this little class would help fill the void. I was also sure it would whet their appetite for more. I had visions of Saturday morning soccer games in my future. I asked the daughter "most likely to love soccer" if she had fun. The answer: "No." Huh?

My Body My Swimsuit: I haven't put my swimsuit on since my indoor triathlon seven weeks ago. It was snug then, but worked. Today I decided it was high time I start regular swimming again. Packed my gym bag with my swimsuit (a pre-pregnancy Speedo--but it'll stretch, right?), goggles, swim cap. The verdict? Most uncomfortable workout EVER. Not to mention I was oozing out the back. And my belly took up so much of the fabric there was little else to cover my chest, and I do actually have a chest right now. That wasn't what I expected from my swimsuit, and then I didn't expect to still swim for 20 minutes, but I did. 

I feel the need to add here that I am, generally, an optimistic person (although from my examples it does appear I expect the worst). My point, I suppose, isn't about being more optimistic or less pessimistic, rather neither. I'd rather let go of expectations altogether, stop trying to anticipate outcomes and just experience them and react to them as they happen. I'm sure there's some good meditative practice for this. Some Buddhist monk long ago already figured this out and here I am thinking I stumbled across some new way of thinking. New to me anyway. New to me at T-minus three days till 40. Does this mean I am getting wiser? 

Now, off to brush my teeth before I tuck the girls in bed.


Monday, December 15, 2008

Everything I Know About Coping with Pregnancy I Learned from Being a Triathlete

After spending a good chunk of my life as a triathlete, it's no wonder I have applied much of my approach and methods for training to my pregnancies. I didn't do this consciously, but in the thick of this third-time-around-pregnancy I've come to realize that the triathlon lifestyle and a healthy pregnancy are excellent partners. Let me elaborate...

1. Ice is nice. After finishing my third marathon (Big Sur--a must run) I saw kiddie pools filled with ice water available for the runners. Because marathoners' brains are a bit addled after 26.2 miles, sitting in a pool of ice water seemed heavenly. And it was. Even better was the next morning, when I had enough spring in my step to walk the hilly streets of San Francisco. From then on an ice bath became my ritual after any run longer than 18 miles. Fast forward many years later, about midway through my first pregnancy--heavy with twins--it occurred to me one night that I felt like I had run 18 miles. And then I realized that an ice bath might make my aching legs feel better. Getting in the tub of as-cold-as-I could make-it-water wasn't quite as easy that time, but once there, and especially after, the benefits were worth the initial discomfort. So much so that I took an ice-cold bath almost every night until I had those babies. I've never had swollen cankles or circulation problems in my pregnancies. Am I lucky or is it my affinity for a polar plunge?

2. Don't be a martyr: modify. So often athletes want to power through their workouts, even when injured or fatigued (not the sleepy kind, rather the overtrained kind). To persevere can be a wonderful trait. Or it can be really stupid. Sometimes it's more ego than will; as in, I want everyone to know how tough I am. Smart athletes (as in they've learned via experience) know this kind of attitude most always does more harm than good. I've aspired to be that woman who ran the day she gave birth, and yet, with each pregnancy I've had a wake up call that I'm not meant to be that woman. It's come at different times with each pregnancy. I ran up until 22 weeks this time. Sure, I could have continued to run, but my gait felt strange and my quads felt tight. Walking worked better. That is, until last weekend when I hit 30 weeks. My low back ached, my tailbone throbbed. Now I have to modify my modified workout by walking in the pool. My purpose for working out this pregnancy isn't to impress my friends and neighbors, it's to maintain some semblance of fitness and have the healthiest pregnancy I can. Pain in this case, is not gain. And yet, there's something about being a triathlete that urges me to "try harder." That's O.K., too, so long as you can differentiate between perseverance and ego. Just last week, after playing Cardio Tennis, I concluded my ego was in play, especially during our last game when I lunged for a ball (and missed, I might add). Nothing like peeing your pants just a little to keep your ego in check.

3. Be good to your training partner. Most of my big races I've teamed up with friends for the training. These relationships require a hefty dose of respect for each other's time and needs, and lots of cooperation, too. For me the upside of training with a friend for long runs and rides, is worth any potential downside: a slower-than-anticipated workout if your partner is having an off day or, say, stopping for a potty break even when you don't need one. For me, the journey is most important, and I like to share it. Being pregnant means you always have a training partner along for the workout. And so, I do my best to listen to the babe: "What, too fast you think? You want to slow down a bit? OK." "You'd rather get in the pool than lift weights? Sure." "Make a potty stop now? Let's do it!" "Handlebars too low on the spin bike--getting squished, you say? Here, let me help." 

4. Follow the sleep rule. Somewhere in my mental training notes I've accumulated in nearly two decades I remember reading that for every hour of hard training effort you should sleep an extra hour. Sleep is, after all, the mode in which our body uses to repair and heal. I think intuitively or by default, I've adopted this rule for pregnancy, too. I've noticed on days when my effort was more intense (like that indoor triathlon) I've either needed a nap, crashed early or ignored my internal alarm in the morning. Now that I'm more aware of this I try to plan for it, i.e., if I see a nap coming I prepare the Princess Movie for the girls in the afternoon or I might switch the next morning's early workout to a different time.

5. Eat with purpose.  Using my first pregnancy as an example again (because let's face it, all women are obsessively healthy the first time around and tend to slack with subsequent babies), I can say with confidence I consumed food in the same way I did while training for an Ironman. Coincidentally the calories I needed for IM training were the same for fortifying a twin pregnancy: 4000 daily. This sounds luxurious until the reality of 4000 healthy calories sets in. Consuming 4000 healthy calories is not easy. Squeezing in 8 to 10 servings of fruits and vegetables became a daily contest for me, along with the other over-the-top food group requirements, most notably protein. Data on twin studies show that gaining half your pregnancy weight in the first half of your pregnancy increases the chance of having bigger, term babies. This is extremely important when the norm for twins is small, premature babies that spend time in the NICU. So, being goal oriented and knowing what "finish line" I wanted, I followed my nutrition training plan with a passion (and, well, yes, triathletes like to think they can have some control). While training for my two Ironman races and throughout my twin pregnancy everything I ate had a purpose: either to fuel my next workout or to grow healthy babies. In both instances I experienced successful outcomes. Again, luck? I don't think so. This is not to say I didn't indulge, but my indulgences either had some nutritional value or my daily requirements for everything else had already been met. It's a good rule, anyway. Want dessert? Only if you've had all your servings of vegetables, first! Now, of course, the admission is I haven't been quite as vigilant with my singleton pregnancies (perhaps made more difficult being pregnant over Halloween?) but mostly I stick with my motto: to eat with purpose. The real luck here is that I'm a person that can pine for roasted beets or arugula salad.

6. Massages are not frivolous. This one doesn't take much explaining. Massages are always an integral part of serious training. How else could you recover in between hard workouts? Pregnancy is hard work. Certain muscles become taxed with little effort, posture strains muscles you didn't know you had, circulation is challenged. Massage works.

7. Don't get dehydrated. Another easy parallel between the athlete and pregnant woman. Both have greater hydration needs and suffer the consequences when not properly hydrated. Part of my "triathlon lifestyle" is to carry a water bottle at all times and I'm glad I do, especially when I'm pregnant. 

8. Listen to your body. Pretty much every point I've made has had some component of "listen to your body," within it. But, just to be clear: Listen to your body. Generally, I believe athletes are very good at this. The mind-body connection allows an athlete to excel when capable and pull back when physical harm lurks. This connection is central to our health, our fitness potential, and naturally, to pregnancy. This is important when you go into labor, too. My second pregnancy I wasn't listening so well when labor began and my daughter was damn near close to being born in the car. 

9. Be prepared. Until I became a triathlete I was always a "shoot from the hip," kind of gal. Figure it out as you go person. Everything will work out fine. This isn't necessarily a bad way to live, but it doesn't apply to certain situations, for instance racing a triathlon, say, or childbirth. Triathlons require you to know what you're getting into, have a plan for training and racing, perhaps even a coach, know the route, use visualization techniques to anticipate the race and your desired outcome and even the plan B, C or D that might evolve. To be prepared for a baby, is not to decorate the nursery. Put down "What to Expect While You're Expecting," and pick up "The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth." If you do nothing else, hire a doula. In the November 2008 American Journal of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, an article titled "Evidence-based labor and delivery management," gave doulas the highest level of recognition and support among all other interventions. It says that in 15 clinical trials with more than 12,000 women, doula support, among other things, reduced the need for surgery and increased maternal satisfaction. A doula, along with your partner and anyone else you might want to birth with you, is your "cheering section." I don't think I could finish a triathlon without support, same is true for childbirth: I need to hear "You can do this! You're so strong! You're almost there!" (And, as was the case in my second pregnancy, had we not had a doula encouraging me to get to the hospital our baby would have been born in the car!) Bottom line is: Think about what you want out of your birth. Is your doctor or midwife going to "deliver" that for you? How about your hospital? And remember, every birth might be different. For my twin delivery I wanted to have the babies at a hospital with a level II NICU with my above-and-beyond competent OB present. As of this week, for this third, low-risk pregnancy I'm switching to a midwifery practice at a hospital that provides more support for labor: tubs, massage, volunteer doula support, among other things. My needs are different this time around and I want to be prepared. (On a side note, as I make all these comparisons between triathlon and childbirth I'm here to say that giving birth is not like finishing a triathlon, which I explain in this essay of the same name.)

10. Don't fear change. I am not the same person I was after finishing my first triathlon. No doubt, I like this person better. I think women come to that same conclusion after pregnancy, too, albeit some more reluctantly and in due time. The fear of change starts with the changing body. For those of you who don't know this already: it doesn't matter how little weight you gain, your body will change. And if  you can let go of that fear, you'll be able to revel in the amazing process. The science and miracle of how the human body adapts to the needs of creating a life and giving birth to a life is mind-blowing phenomenal. The next fear we may harbor is how our life is going to change post baby. Some people may feel adamant that their life absolutely will not be altered once baby arrives: work as usual; training as usual; or whatever else consumed life before parenthood. But then, what's the purpose of having a baby? Isn't the point of having children to change your life? We're pretty adaptable creatures, we humans are. I've had to make concessions in just about every aspect of my life since having kids, but I like the process of growing, expanding, adapting, changing (which is not to say I haven't struggled with it at times). But the thing with parenting is that you never figure it out. Because kids are growing and changing every day, parents have to as well. And the goal, of course, is to wake up each day feeling like you finished a triathlon (and some days you might physically feel this way), but in a sense that parenting has changed you into a person you like even better. 

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Who Needs Balls?

In my last, ode to snow, post I forgot to mention one highlight I eagerly await each winter: Women's Adventure Night. From April or May through September I gather with a group of women who meet weekly for a run/track workout. Most everyone has a purpose whether it be a faster 5K, a first half-marathon or a fall marathon. The group started small: a few friends, who invited their friends, who invited co-workers, neighbors, or anyone they met who was a like-minded fitness enthusiast. The group includes Sara, a friend from my writing class (the rare breed writer/triathlete/mom, what's not to love?); Shawn, whom I met at a Pete Yorn concert (how cool is that?); and soon Melanie will join us, a woman I just met at a neighborhood holiday party (I love when I unearth triathletes from my hood). And so now, because everyone brings people on board, we have a hoard of people on the distribution list. We realized after the first summer of weekly workouts, we all liked each other. We do a serious amount of laughing while sweating. We leave each other's presence having acquired both a great workout and much needed social time. We couldn't bear to wait out the winter without seeing each other. Thus, Women's Adventure Night was born. Once a month we hook up to try something different. In years past WAN has included night trail running (we thought the trail was lighted, but no...), cross country skiing, pole dancing, speed skating and for grins a bra-fitting party and beer tasting (both necessary accoutrements for the female athlete). But never, until last week, had we ventured into an activity that required balls.

Literally people. Balls. I learned early in my childhood I wasn't very good at the ball sports. If you put me on the soccer field I was the one who always got clocked in the head--and I don't mean in a score-a-goal-Pele-style-sort-of-way, but a didn't-see-it comin'-knock-me-sideways-sort-of-way. My uncle was a baseball coach. A lot of swings and misses, which was unfortunate because I didn't mind running the bases. I grew up taking tennis lessons when Chris Evert and Tracy Austin ruled the courts. Alas at some point my parents gave up on the lessons.

I wouldn't have considered picking up a racquet again if it weren't for Cardio Tennis. Last summer I watched Tracy Austin in a Cardio Tennis demo and (clearly I've never gotten over her) decided it would be the perfect WAN activity. I coordinated our 
own personal Cardio Tennis class through a pro at Life Time Fitness and 15 eager WAN devotees attended. Most had never played tennis before and those of us who had... well, it had been many years ago. Like twenty. As runners and triathletes the whole idea of lateral movement was pretty foreign. Add flying balls? Could we handle this? That's Darcy on the right and Courtney below. Looks like they can handle flying balls quite well, thankyouverymuch. Turns out, we all could.

Let's just say I may never need to wear my "who needs balls" t-shirt, again. I had a ball, and so did everyone else. I'd go as far as to say, I didn't suck, either. Of course, the emphasis isn't on the game of tennis. Hitting the ball is all well and good, but no one cares if it takes three bounces or if you hit it in or out of the court. (It's easy not to suck when you don't have rules.) In between drills there is an obstacle course of pushups, lounges, jumping jacks, etc. to keep the heart rate up and we finished with a few games--not real tennis--just games. My favorite being "around the world," where we split our group on opposite sides of the court. Each player hit the ball (or not) and then ran to the other side. We tried to keep the ball in play, but if you missed three balls you were "out." The fewer people playing, the faster you had to run. If you ever feel bored with your fitness routine, I highly recommend Cardio Tennis or Women's Adventure Night. Or both.

Here are a few more shots from our WAN Cardio Tennis experience. Speaking of "balls" can you pick me out of the crowd? What do you think of balls? Tennis anyone?

            


 

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Let it Snow

The child in the purple snowsuit, on the ground, hasn't collapsed from hypothermia. 
She is having a tantrum because she didn't get to put as many buttons on the snowman as her sister. 

Yesterday we woke to a big thick layer of snow, which I was very happy to see. If it's going to be cold around here, we might as well have snow. Strangely enough snow makes being outside more pleasant, especially if it's going to be zero degrees, give or take 20 degrees (I'm not kidding people). A walk or run in the bitter cold now becomes a walk or run in the snow, which is beautiful and makes it difficult to complain, in fact it feels more like a privilege. 

Plus, we have more options outdoors: cross country skiing, snowshoeing, sledding. And, the kids want to play outdoors, too. Soon our neighborhood will include several "snow forts" that all the kids build and maintain commune style. They're huge, impressive digs. Now I get how the Eskimos live.

Along with the traditional "snow sports," I have a few non-traditional snow workouts, too. Shoveling snow, for one. This is an amazing core workout. The degree of difficulty is dependent on the type of snow. Yesterday's light, dry snow made the shoveling relatively easy. When it's wet snow, you better have been a regular at the gym all summer and fall. The kids, too, have their miniature snow shovels and love to "help." Last year one of my favorite workouts was hitching a sled around my waist (with a dog leash) and pulling the girls around the neighborhood. Highly unconventional. Great Cardio. Must not mind getting stared at by your neighbors. I think my dog and I would make a great team for skijoring--but as a fit mom, you have to include a stroller, so my workout is called strojoring, which I've experimented with, just not yet in the snow. By the time April comes and I'm desperate for new and inventive ways to workout in the winter, don't count me out on this one. 

Any other creative winter workouts to add?

Monday, December 1, 2008

Don't Bring Diabetes Home from Disney World

After a long morning traveling last Wednesday, we hit our hotel restaurant for a late lunch. So it begins, I thought. Here comes the fat. Here comes the grease. Here comes the sugar. Imagine my surprise when I looked over the children's menu. The choices included grilled fish or grilled chicken strips. Really? And, both came with a serving of steamed green beans and carrots and fresh fruit. Are we really at Disney World?

As my kids worked their way through their fish and chicken and my husband and I munched on our roasted chicken salads, I looked up at the table in front of me. Overweight parents with an overweight son of about 12 were going through plates of all-you-can-eat barbeque ribs and sausage. The little boy was starting his second chocolate milk shake. Who am I to judge? They're on vacation

So the fat, the grease and the sugar were there for the taking. The good news was, we had choices. I don't like to think of food in terms of "good" or "bad," rather "better" or "worse." Some people might think a bagel and cream cheese is a bad choice for breakfast. Maybe compared to a bowl of steel cut oats, but not compared to a glazed donut. A better choice might be a whole wheat bagel with peanut butter. But a glazed donut every now and again, isn't necessarily "bad" either.

Before arriving at Disney World I had believed finding healthy (or healthier) choices would be challenging, but to my surprise healthy alternatives were available where ever we ate out. Even in the parks, the restaurants often paired peanut butter and jelly or cheese pizza with fresh carrots and apple sauce (when served on a "Mickey" plate, healthy choices are more fun).

We also stayed in a hotel room with a kitchen so we ate breakfast as usual (my mother-in-law stocked our kitchen with oatmeal, cereal, whole grain bagels and a dried-fruit laden breakfast bread, yogurt, milk and juice--we owe our healthy start to her). And, with the exception of Thanksgiving, we cooked in, the extended family taking turns cooking dinner (an online grocer delivered to our hotel). Maybe cooking dinner on your vacation isn't your thing. For us the kitchen is a worthwhile amenity. Even better than having a healthier (not to mention, cheaper) alternative to eating out, it was nice for everyone to sit around and relax after a long day at the parks. (Tired kids at restaurants do not a good combination make.)

Don't get me wrong, we weren't the fanatical health-nut family. (Admission: The last day at the Magic Kingdom I polished off my frozen chocolate covered banana--healthy option, right?--and then "helped" one daughter break into her chocolate covered ice cream bar and then finished what was left of another daughter's ice cream sandwich. I'm sure the all-you-can-eat barbeque family would have loved to see that.) I wholly support the idea of vacation as going out of your norm, a time to drop your routine, go off schedule. It was, after all, just five days. If vacations aren't different from life as usual, then why bother? 

So we did indulge. After a full plate of Thanksgiving dinner, one daughter ate a piece of pumpkin pie and a chocolate covered ice cream bar. When we had breakfast at Cinderella's Castle there were cinnamon rolls, eggs, bacon, sausage, and yes, second helpings. How can you refuse when Belle comes around and asks, "More chocolate milk, mi lady?" 

And yet. The Monday after we returned I was scheduled for my glucose screening test. I realize, if I was going to have gestational diabetes it wouldn't be because I spent five days at Disney World. I was either doomed or not. Still, who wants to have their blood sugar measured the morning after they return from vacation? I checked out fine. Fortunately my body processes sugar quite well. But, I'd also like to believe healthy eating--choosing "better" options the majority of the time works to counter balance those days when I go with something "worse."

And, I fully believe exercise can trump many of those "worse" choices when you do choose them and can even motivate you to avoid them. So what of double desserts at Thanksgiving when you dance the rest of the night with Mickey and Minnie to a live country western band? What of second helpings at Cinderella's breakfast when you walk the day away at Magic Kingdom. (There was a killer gym at our hotel but all we did in there was look around. Hey, we were on vacation!)

We managed to arrive home with our Mickey ears and assorted souvenirs, but not diabetes. We'll continue to make our healthy choices and splurge as needed. However, I still draw the line after one milkshake.