This morning I woke up at a respectable time (7:30) and took my thyroid pill. It needs to be taken and digested on an empty stomach, so I put off tea or breakfast. By the time I got Nick dropped off at work, picked up dry cleaning, and started laundry, it was after 9. What I've been writing for the last few days was still on my mind. I've been dogged by the idea that I need to change my focus. I need to shift from being discontent with what I am to putting every effort into being something else. Negative (I don't want to be/I'm unhappy being) to positive (I want to be/I'm living like I am).
So in that vein, I decided it was time to do a WOD again. I still have a broken elbow, so there are a wide variety of things I can't do. But there are still things I CAN do. Starting on the ground floor of the apartment building, I ran up the stairs to the third floor, walked down the hallway running the length of the building, down the stairs to ground level, across through the parking lot, and back to the other set of stairs. I did that round 4 times, then went back up the stairs to our apartment. In the apartment I did 4 rounds of 10 air squats and 10 sit ups. The whole thing took me about 20 minutes, and then I took a shower and had a banana with almond butter and tea with milk for a mid-morning "breakfast". Then I picked up the book I'm working on right now, Deep Nutrition by Dr. Catherine Shanahan, MD. This book talks about the idea that the food you eat talks to your genes, and turns them off and on depending on what chemical messages are being sent. This is something that I've had a nagging feeling about, something that I've thought just has to be true but I've never really had words for. It's making me think a lot of things.
The first thing I'm thinking is that honestly, at the very core level, I got some good genes. The book talks about the idea that there really isn't a "genetically gifted" strain of humans. We all have the potential to become strong, athletic, and beautiful, but it's heavily influenced by the genes that are "on" at the time of our conception (and thusly, what our mothers are feeding themselves, and our fathers are eating).
I'm in a generation that was conceived before BigAg took over our food supply, before genetic manipulation of foods became so widespread, before our world became so automated and so sedentary. Essentially, I got un-messed-with genes to start with. My father comes from a long line of tall, strong, robust, workhorse bodies. My mom's genes are the more unknown, given her family history, but her father is still alive and well at 93 years old so there's gotta be something good there. The good stuff was turned on when I was conceived. I didn't start with "slowed down" genes.
I have known and acknowledged for a long time that I have good genes. My teeth are straight, my jaw is strong. I am tall, my muscles form quickly and grow easily. I have a strong heart (despite anomalous flaps of tissue). For a long time I was free of any persisting diseases, although Hashimoto's Disease and similar thyroid disorders do have a genetic component. My research into Hashi's has told me that there is *something* that is turning those genes on. They haven't narrowed it down to a specific factor, but they know there are components in the environment, in personality, and in our food consumption. Add in the idea from Dr. Shanahan's book, and it falls into place. Our food talks to our genes, and in that way our food becomes us. The food we eat forms us. Which I have always known, but never really believed on a gut level. (Sorry, bad pun, couldn't resist!)
So essentially, if food is a conversation you're having with your body, what conversation do you want to have? Do you want to be a bully? Do you want to throw crap at your body, useless oils and calories and unrecognizable chemicals from the food labs, and see what your body does with it? Do you want to treat your body like an experiment and see what happens when it gets a steady supply of nothing it's evolved to need? The current generation really is a demonstration of what happens when the body doesn't get what it needs to be optimally healthy. Incidents of heart disease, cancer, and diabetes type II are astronomical, and we know those diseases are acquired. We know those diseases are a result of lifestyle choices in the majority of suffers (as with any absolute, there are exceptions that prove the rule).
After my late breakfast, I finished the laundry and a couple of other tasks, then walked across the street to drop off the dry cleaning and get a salad from the deli. I was intent on the Apple Valley salad: apples (vitamins A, B, C, K, and fiber), dried cranberries (vitamins C, E, K, manganese, and fiber), salad greens (potassium, manganese, calcium, pantothenic acid, iron, and fiber), walnuts (vitamin E, folate, omega 3 fatty acids), goat cheese (calcium, protein, niacin, thiamin), and chicken (protein, vitamins B6 and B12, selenium) and balsamic dressing (iron, maganese). Basically I just had a really good conversation with my body. I gave it pieces that it needs to be healthy and to turn on the right genes.
I see good things coming from this shift in focus.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
What the brain perceives, the body achieves
Yesterday I had a chance to organize my thoughts, outline the challenges of the last 6 months, and whine it all out. Writing the list helped focus me and gave me the opportunity to let it all go. Now that it's not whirling around in my mind anymore, I can let it float off into the ether.
And that leaves plenty of room for looking forward.
I still have the same goals. I always have the same goals. Well, calling them goals isn't exactly right because I've never really put words to them. I've always had this sense that I want More. I want Different. I want to be, or do, Something Else. I've never been able really to doggedly pursue a goal because I've never had words for where I'm going. All I've ever had words for was Not Here. It's really hard to live a life based around being discontent, never satisfied, with where you are and what you are achieving. The most disheartening part of it is the sense that your energies are being spent on the wrong things, that instead of moving forward you're just desperately trying to not slide backward.
My entire life I've had the sense that where I am, what I do, what I achieve, is Not Good Enough. I've never done something and sat back to rest on my laurels. My brain immediately thinks up ways that I could have been better, the achievement could have been more stellar, I could have been more remarkable. If I can't come up with a way that my achievement could be more of a success, then I fall back on "but I'm still fat and that is NOT acceptable". I've always blamed myself, labelled myself, torn myself up for not being thinner, but I've never systematically attacked the issue. I've tried all sorts of diets! I skipped the cabbage soup diet, and I missed the Master Cleanse, but I've had experiences with all the others. Always with the sense that where I am is not acceptable, not with the perspective that I am moving forward to something better.
I guess it's all about perspective. But if the body follows the brain, then this body is an example of trying not to be what it is, instead of trying to be something better. Hmmm. I don't know if I'm expressing this quite right. My focus is always on the fact that I'm overweight, I'm awkward, I'm graceless, I'm injured, and that is what I'm perpetuating. For my body to change, my focus needs to change.
Which brings me to the "goals" I have always had. Never in sentences, but always there in fleeting images and big black Xs. As an example, yesterday I took the train to Irvine. At the Irvine station you have to climb 4 flights of steps, walk across a bridge over the train tracks, and go back down 4 flights to the train station. When I finished going up the steps I noticed that my thighs were burning. Huh, weird. Since when do my thighs burn this much after 60 steps? I immediately started with the excuses: I have a broken arm and that makes moving awkward, I'm carrying my laptop and a bag of books and that's heavy, my load is awkward. I did everything I could to not focus on the fact that I'm not as in shape as I would like to be. By giving myself excuses I give myself permission to stay right here. My brain will perpetuate what I focus on, and I'm not focused on being better. I'm just focusing on accepting that I'm not happy where I am.
I don't want to accept that. I don't want to stay as that. I don't want to spend my life being unhappy with what I am, but making constant excuses that allow me to remain here forever.
So. I need some goals. More than goals, I need an entirely new approach. I need to change EVERYTHING about how I approach this challenge.
And that leaves plenty of room for looking forward.
I still have the same goals. I always have the same goals. Well, calling them goals isn't exactly right because I've never really put words to them. I've always had this sense that I want More. I want Different. I want to be, or do, Something Else. I've never been able really to doggedly pursue a goal because I've never had words for where I'm going. All I've ever had words for was Not Here. It's really hard to live a life based around being discontent, never satisfied, with where you are and what you are achieving. The most disheartening part of it is the sense that your energies are being spent on the wrong things, that instead of moving forward you're just desperately trying to not slide backward.
My entire life I've had the sense that where I am, what I do, what I achieve, is Not Good Enough. I've never done something and sat back to rest on my laurels. My brain immediately thinks up ways that I could have been better, the achievement could have been more stellar, I could have been more remarkable. If I can't come up with a way that my achievement could be more of a success, then I fall back on "but I'm still fat and that is NOT acceptable". I've always blamed myself, labelled myself, torn myself up for not being thinner, but I've never systematically attacked the issue. I've tried all sorts of diets! I skipped the cabbage soup diet, and I missed the Master Cleanse, but I've had experiences with all the others. Always with the sense that where I am is not acceptable, not with the perspective that I am moving forward to something better.
I guess it's all about perspective. But if the body follows the brain, then this body is an example of trying not to be what it is, instead of trying to be something better. Hmmm. I don't know if I'm expressing this quite right. My focus is always on the fact that I'm overweight, I'm awkward, I'm graceless, I'm injured, and that is what I'm perpetuating. For my body to change, my focus needs to change.
Which brings me to the "goals" I have always had. Never in sentences, but always there in fleeting images and big black Xs. As an example, yesterday I took the train to Irvine. At the Irvine station you have to climb 4 flights of steps, walk across a bridge over the train tracks, and go back down 4 flights to the train station. When I finished going up the steps I noticed that my thighs were burning. Huh, weird. Since when do my thighs burn this much after 60 steps? I immediately started with the excuses: I have a broken arm and that makes moving awkward, I'm carrying my laptop and a bag of books and that's heavy, my load is awkward. I did everything I could to not focus on the fact that I'm not as in shape as I would like to be. By giving myself excuses I give myself permission to stay right here. My brain will perpetuate what I focus on, and I'm not focused on being better. I'm just focusing on accepting that I'm not happy where I am.
I don't want to accept that. I don't want to stay as that. I don't want to spend my life being unhappy with what I am, but making constant excuses that allow me to remain here forever.
So. I need some goals. More than goals, I need an entirely new approach. I need to change EVERYTHING about how I approach this challenge.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Down but not out
I would like to know what deity I angered by making it to 2015. How did I tempt fate? What challenge did I unknowingly issue to the powers that be? Was I getting too confident? Did the burst of pride I got from completing Badger on Christmas Eve just make the energy of the world wrong? 2015 has been...well. I'm trying not to use defeatist self talk, I'm trying to stay positive and always look forward. But if I were honest, 2015 has been a challenge and I'm a little intimidated by the idea of finishing out the year.
January: I got the flu. I caught the honest to goodness influenza virus on vacation over New Years, and when I got back from that vacation I was down for the count. Unfortunately I realized what I had only after I gave it to my husband and HE was diagnosed with it, so I couldn't take any of the take-within-the-first-72-hours medication and had to ride it out. Thank goodness I was reasonably healthy, but I was still knocked down for the month. I didn't feel like I was anywhere near my usual self until February.
February: Trying to maintain a work schedule, a workout schedule, work toward goals, and do everything on a depleted immune system, I caught another cold mid-month. Thankfully it was just a garden-variety cold (and trust me, there is a VAST difference between a bad cold and the flu) and I got better faster. But given that I was only running at about 75% strength anyway, it was a hit.
March: Struggling with my rapidly depleting health, in desperation I Went outside of my health insurance coverage to a naturopath. Essentially I felt like we weren't treating the problem, we were only addressing symptoms. Headaches, fatigue, weight gain, and various other systemic issues were getting so bad that my performance at work was suffering and I was beginning to feel really threatened. With a series of blood tests, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis and started on thyroid. I was also given progesterone, both because I was showing signs of being perimenopausal (common with thyroid disorders) and because of a strong family history of female cancers.
April: Breathing/asthma was bad, and I went to Urgent Care for a breathing treatment. This is something I have had to do with increasing regularity, and the doctor on call that day wanted an X-ray of my lungs to make sure I didn't have any residual pneumonia from being sick at the beginning of the year. That X-ray revealed that I had an "anomalous flap of tissue" on the right atrium of my heart. I am instructed not to work out hard enough to push either my breathing or my heartrate, until we can get an EKG and check things out. Greeeeeaaaaattt.
May: I'm twiddling my thumbs. I go to the box but I can't push. It's really hard to go to a Crossfit box and not get your heartrate up! It's difficult to not challenge breathing that is already challenged. Around the middle of the month I had the EKG, and then a week later I got the response that all was clear and I could work out to my heart's desire again. Brilliant!
June: In the first week I got to the box three times. I stumbled upon my motivating word, my focus, my motto. My word is FIERI (yes, like the actor). It's the latin word for DONE, as in finished, completed, achieved. I sketched it out as if it were a template for a tattoo, combining my long-standing love for the transformational power of the butterfly symbol and this powerful word. I was imagining it on my skin as an emblem of achieving goals and using it to focus my energy.
Then we went to England, yay! In the first few days I walked quite a bit, as you do in any European city. The first day there, struggling with jet lag, I covered 15,000 steps. Then the second day my count was around 12,000. Then the third day...
I BROKE MY ARM.
Yes. I broke my arm. I have a non-displaced (not separated) radial head fracture. Basically I cracked it. It's painful but getting better, still restricted range of motion (obviously). I'm off work for 6 weeks, until the very end of July, to allow it to heal. Until that time I'm restricted to no weight bearing, no pushing, no pulling, and no lifting greater than 2.5 pounds. It's my right arm and I'm right hand dominant, so it's difficult to not use it, especially given that my left arm is so damaged and restricted in the first place. I can't drive because I can't shift. With Nick in Irvine and everyone working, I'm basically sitting at home and talking to the cats.
I'm trying really hard to be positive. I'm trying to use this as motivation. I'm trying to set goals and amp up my determination. I get knocked down but I get up again, dammit. Ain't never gonna keep me down. I just have to figure out how to get up again. I'm getting really tired of having to get up in the first place. Haven't I gotten up enough??
January: I got the flu. I caught the honest to goodness influenza virus on vacation over New Years, and when I got back from that vacation I was down for the count. Unfortunately I realized what I had only after I gave it to my husband and HE was diagnosed with it, so I couldn't take any of the take-within-the-first-72-hours medication and had to ride it out. Thank goodness I was reasonably healthy, but I was still knocked down for the month. I didn't feel like I was anywhere near my usual self until February.
February: Trying to maintain a work schedule, a workout schedule, work toward goals, and do everything on a depleted immune system, I caught another cold mid-month. Thankfully it was just a garden-variety cold (and trust me, there is a VAST difference between a bad cold and the flu) and I got better faster. But given that I was only running at about 75% strength anyway, it was a hit.
March: Struggling with my rapidly depleting health, in desperation I Went outside of my health insurance coverage to a naturopath. Essentially I felt like we weren't treating the problem, we were only addressing symptoms. Headaches, fatigue, weight gain, and various other systemic issues were getting so bad that my performance at work was suffering and I was beginning to feel really threatened. With a series of blood tests, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis and started on thyroid. I was also given progesterone, both because I was showing signs of being perimenopausal (common with thyroid disorders) and because of a strong family history of female cancers.
April: Breathing/asthma was bad, and I went to Urgent Care for a breathing treatment. This is something I have had to do with increasing regularity, and the doctor on call that day wanted an X-ray of my lungs to make sure I didn't have any residual pneumonia from being sick at the beginning of the year. That X-ray revealed that I had an "anomalous flap of tissue" on the right atrium of my heart. I am instructed not to work out hard enough to push either my breathing or my heartrate, until we can get an EKG and check things out. Greeeeeaaaaattt.
May: I'm twiddling my thumbs. I go to the box but I can't push. It's really hard to go to a Crossfit box and not get your heartrate up! It's difficult to not challenge breathing that is already challenged. Around the middle of the month I had the EKG, and then a week later I got the response that all was clear and I could work out to my heart's desire again. Brilliant!
June: In the first week I got to the box three times. I stumbled upon my motivating word, my focus, my motto. My word is FIERI (yes, like the actor). It's the latin word for DONE, as in finished, completed, achieved. I sketched it out as if it were a template for a tattoo, combining my long-standing love for the transformational power of the butterfly symbol and this powerful word. I was imagining it on my skin as an emblem of achieving goals and using it to focus my energy.
Then we went to England, yay! In the first few days I walked quite a bit, as you do in any European city. The first day there, struggling with jet lag, I covered 15,000 steps. Then the second day my count was around 12,000. Then the third day...
I BROKE MY ARM.
Yes. I broke my arm. I have a non-displaced (not separated) radial head fracture. Basically I cracked it. It's painful but getting better, still restricted range of motion (obviously). I'm off work for 6 weeks, until the very end of July, to allow it to heal. Until that time I'm restricted to no weight bearing, no pushing, no pulling, and no lifting greater than 2.5 pounds. It's my right arm and I'm right hand dominant, so it's difficult to not use it, especially given that my left arm is so damaged and restricted in the first place. I can't drive because I can't shift. With Nick in Irvine and everyone working, I'm basically sitting at home and talking to the cats.
I'm trying really hard to be positive. I'm trying to use this as motivation. I'm trying to set goals and amp up my determination. I get knocked down but I get up again, dammit. Ain't never gonna keep me down. I just have to figure out how to get up again. I'm getting really tired of having to get up in the first place. Haven't I gotten up enough??
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Really healing
I started the elimination diet seriously on March 28th, at the same time I started taking half a grain of thyroid. Two days later, I started taking 100mg of progesterone at night. In that time, I've had improved sleep, increased my daily step counts, have managed to recover my energy levels enough to go to the box 1-2 times a week...and I've lost 18 pounds. Yes, in 5 weeks. Yes, it is astonishing.
When I first started the elimination diet I ate nothing but salads and meat. About a week later when I was brave enough I added roasted carrots and parsnips. That's what I ate for a couple of weeks, and I was content. I wasn't starving, and I didn't feel like my body was trying to drive me toward more food. I would eat a salad and a portion of meat and be content. I didn't have cravings for sugar, even though I wasn't really eating any (just some fruit). My brain was quiet. I realized, startlingly, that I had been eating enormous portions of food--not because I was hungry and not because I was fighting disordered eating habits, but because my body was desperately trying to find energy somewhere. I've never had it so boldly illustrated to me that the body will seek what it needs, no matter what the conscious brain is trying to achieve. When I started my medication and my body could finally get energy out of my food, everything settled down and the clamor was quiet. I am not seeking energy anymore. I finally have energy.
Things I had not even realized were that bad have improved substantially. My brain has turned back on! I'm a reasonably intelligent human and slowing me down gets me to about average, so it wasn't obvious that I was struggling. I thought I was tired (I was), I was stressed (I was), and I needed a break (I did). But it never occurred to me that my thinking was just slowed down, that the brain requires 25% of your daily calories and if my body couldn't unlock and process them, then my brain would be suffering too. Once the medicine started to kick in, though, my brain turned back on. I've been more involved in my patient's care and more in tune with necessary tweaks to their programs, I've been noticing details and making appropriate changes, and I've been far more detail-oriented and aware. My co-workers say the change is like night and day, and it's very very obvious that my issues were medical and not my intelligence or personality. It is a great comfort to have it confirmed that I did not make a grave error when I chose my career path, that the choice I made to attempt to give back some of the healing I received after the accident was not short-sighted and misguided.
Going through this I have read repeatedly that I have to be gentle with myself. Every book I have read so far about Hashi's patients identifies us as perfectionists, those who are driven and successful until they hit a wall. I've had repeated moments when I've wondered if someone is spying on me, because everything I'm reading is exactly my experience. Ever since I was young I've been driven--I even have a waist chain that has a charm that is engraved with the word! I've always been a perfectionist. I've always held myself to the highest standard. Now, going through this, I'm repeatedly reading that this is the time to be gentle. This is the time to accept a 10-minute walk. This is the time to forgo that 5am workout in favor of more sleep. This is the time to accept that sitting on the couch and reading is the right choice, even when the house needs to be cleaned and you have a list of projects waiting for your attention. Now is the time to be gentle.
I feel like I am healing. There have been no moments when I've been so tired or busy that I've wanted to cry. There have been no moments when I've told myself that the best I can do isn't good enough. I have felt peaceful. I have been attentive to sleep and rest and what I'm eating, to my medications and my supplements, to taking real care of myself instead of just trying to patch it together so I can keep pushing.
I feel better.
When I first started the elimination diet I ate nothing but salads and meat. About a week later when I was brave enough I added roasted carrots and parsnips. That's what I ate for a couple of weeks, and I was content. I wasn't starving, and I didn't feel like my body was trying to drive me toward more food. I would eat a salad and a portion of meat and be content. I didn't have cravings for sugar, even though I wasn't really eating any (just some fruit). My brain was quiet. I realized, startlingly, that I had been eating enormous portions of food--not because I was hungry and not because I was fighting disordered eating habits, but because my body was desperately trying to find energy somewhere. I've never had it so boldly illustrated to me that the body will seek what it needs, no matter what the conscious brain is trying to achieve. When I started my medication and my body could finally get energy out of my food, everything settled down and the clamor was quiet. I am not seeking energy anymore. I finally have energy.
Things I had not even realized were that bad have improved substantially. My brain has turned back on! I'm a reasonably intelligent human and slowing me down gets me to about average, so it wasn't obvious that I was struggling. I thought I was tired (I was), I was stressed (I was), and I needed a break (I did). But it never occurred to me that my thinking was just slowed down, that the brain requires 25% of your daily calories and if my body couldn't unlock and process them, then my brain would be suffering too. Once the medicine started to kick in, though, my brain turned back on. I've been more involved in my patient's care and more in tune with necessary tweaks to their programs, I've been noticing details and making appropriate changes, and I've been far more detail-oriented and aware. My co-workers say the change is like night and day, and it's very very obvious that my issues were medical and not my intelligence or personality. It is a great comfort to have it confirmed that I did not make a grave error when I chose my career path, that the choice I made to attempt to give back some of the healing I received after the accident was not short-sighted and misguided.
Going through this I have read repeatedly that I have to be gentle with myself. Every book I have read so far about Hashi's patients identifies us as perfectionists, those who are driven and successful until they hit a wall. I've had repeated moments when I've wondered if someone is spying on me, because everything I'm reading is exactly my experience. Ever since I was young I've been driven--I even have a waist chain that has a charm that is engraved with the word! I've always been a perfectionist. I've always held myself to the highest standard. Now, going through this, I'm repeatedly reading that this is the time to be gentle. This is the time to accept a 10-minute walk. This is the time to forgo that 5am workout in favor of more sleep. This is the time to accept that sitting on the couch and reading is the right choice, even when the house needs to be cleaned and you have a list of projects waiting for your attention. Now is the time to be gentle.
I feel like I am healing. There have been no moments when I've been so tired or busy that I've wanted to cry. There have been no moments when I've told myself that the best I can do isn't good enough. I have felt peaceful. I have been attentive to sleep and rest and what I'm eating, to my medications and my supplements, to taking real care of myself instead of just trying to patch it together so I can keep pushing.
I feel better.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Missing variables
For as long as I can think, I have always "done the math". I have always run the numbers on my caloric need, my calorie burn, I know the different formulas off the top of my head. I've long known the calories in a gram of protein, carbohydrate, fat, or alcohol. I know the recommended percentages as well as the percentages of other diet programs--Atkins, Protein Power, high protein, low fat, whatever. The numbers have never helped me. They've never actually reflected what is happening in my body, but that doesn't mean I haven't tried.
I have always been an intellectual. Or a nerd. Whatever you want to call me, I've been an established devotee of things we know and can prove for my entire life. I am trained as a scientist, and I have two science-based degrees (AS in Physical Therapy Assisting and BS in Kinesiology, emphasis Physical Therapy). I'm even taking another science--Nutrition, ironically enough--just for fun right now, and I'm debating finishing up that degree also just for the hell of it. I believe in science. And it seemed like science had betrayed me.
Mel very quickly pointed out that science hadn't failed me at all. She astutely observed that I have a disease, and I was trying to work with an unknown variable. The idea struck me in the face. It was so bloody obvious. You're never going to get the right answer if you don't have all the parts of the equation. It felt like I was beating my head against a wall, and I was. It's astonishing I kept beating for so long, honestly, and is just a testament to how stubborn I am (ahem--I don't like not being able to understand something) and to how much I want this. Mel's observation, which I couldn't see, freed me to move forward. I was able to let go, in that instant, of all the anger and frustration and disappointment in myself at not being able to "do this" when apparently everyone around me could.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am not stupid. I'm actually very smart.
I am not inept. I'm very capable and I have many talents.
I am not a glutton. I need energy, and my body is struggling.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am free.
I have always been an intellectual. Or a nerd. Whatever you want to call me, I've been an established devotee of things we know and can prove for my entire life. I am trained as a scientist, and I have two science-based degrees (AS in Physical Therapy Assisting and BS in Kinesiology, emphasis Physical Therapy). I'm even taking another science--Nutrition, ironically enough--just for fun right now, and I'm debating finishing up that degree also just for the hell of it. I believe in science. And it seemed like science had betrayed me.
Mel very quickly pointed out that science hadn't failed me at all. She astutely observed that I have a disease, and I was trying to work with an unknown variable. The idea struck me in the face. It was so bloody obvious. You're never going to get the right answer if you don't have all the parts of the equation. It felt like I was beating my head against a wall, and I was. It's astonishing I kept beating for so long, honestly, and is just a testament to how stubborn I am (ahem--I don't like not being able to understand something) and to how much I want this. Mel's observation, which I couldn't see, freed me to move forward. I was able to let go, in that instant, of all the anger and frustration and disappointment in myself at not being able to "do this" when apparently everyone around me could.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am not stupid. I'm actually very smart.
I am not inept. I'm very capable and I have many talents.
I am not a glutton. I need energy, and my body is struggling.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am free.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Five days
It's been five days since I got my diagnosis. Not even a full week, and yet it feels like it's been forever. In some ways, that is.
I've been fighting these symptoms for years. I am in the process of looking back, cataloging, reliving. I am in the process of piecing together what turns out to be a very clear path to this diagnosis, including all the little off-shoots of doctor dismissal, distraction, and dissuasion. I am a bit mortified, really, and angry with myself for accepting for so long that I didn't know my body best. It's long been my tendency to turn my body over to others whom I thought knew better than I did about how my body responds. I accepted direction regarding what I should look like, what I should weigh, how I should wear makeup, how I should dress, how I should exercise, when I should rest. I accepted that whatever I was eating, even if I wasn't actually eating anything at that precise moment, was bad for me and something I should never consume again, and I should rightly follow the direction of other people because they knew better than I did.
I followed low fat. I followed low calorie. I followed manic cardio. I followed conventional wisdom, even when it was painfully obvious that my body responded well to precisely none of it. Even when, if I had been honest with myself and accepted what my body was trying desperately to communicate to me, it was very apparent that my body was actually deteriorating under what I was trying to force it to become. I labored under the delusion that other people knew best, and I was just not applying myself diligently enough. It's appalling to me, looking back, that I accepted so much outside interference in what should be our most deeply personal, private experience. And I've paid for that interference with years of self doubt and deteriorating health that have brought me here.
"Here" feels at once triumphant and overwhelming. I knew something was wrong. I knew the numbers didn't add up, and as diligently as I tried to apply all the advice and suggestions I should have been getting much more of a response out of my body. I knew, as a clinician trained in gathering and interpreting physical response data, that something wasn't adding up. And yet the amount of time I spent trying to "try harder" has dug me further into the hole, and I'm so deep in that I can barely see the light of the sky far above me. The task of unearthing myself seems huge, no pun intended. It seems like too much. Too many steps, too many change. Nothing one person can do.
I've been fighting these symptoms for years. I am in the process of looking back, cataloging, reliving. I am in the process of piecing together what turns out to be a very clear path to this diagnosis, including all the little off-shoots of doctor dismissal, distraction, and dissuasion. I am a bit mortified, really, and angry with myself for accepting for so long that I didn't know my body best. It's long been my tendency to turn my body over to others whom I thought knew better than I did about how my body responds. I accepted direction regarding what I should look like, what I should weigh, how I should wear makeup, how I should dress, how I should exercise, when I should rest. I accepted that whatever I was eating, even if I wasn't actually eating anything at that precise moment, was bad for me and something I should never consume again, and I should rightly follow the direction of other people because they knew better than I did.
I followed low fat. I followed low calorie. I followed manic cardio. I followed conventional wisdom, even when it was painfully obvious that my body responded well to precisely none of it. Even when, if I had been honest with myself and accepted what my body was trying desperately to communicate to me, it was very apparent that my body was actually deteriorating under what I was trying to force it to become. I labored under the delusion that other people knew best, and I was just not applying myself diligently enough. It's appalling to me, looking back, that I accepted so much outside interference in what should be our most deeply personal, private experience. And I've paid for that interference with years of self doubt and deteriorating health that have brought me here.
"Here" feels at once triumphant and overwhelming. I knew something was wrong. I knew the numbers didn't add up, and as diligently as I tried to apply all the advice and suggestions I should have been getting much more of a response out of my body. I knew, as a clinician trained in gathering and interpreting physical response data, that something wasn't adding up. And yet the amount of time I spent trying to "try harder" has dug me further into the hole, and I'm so deep in that I can barely see the light of the sky far above me. The task of unearthing myself seems huge, no pun intended. It seems like too much. Too many steps, too many change. Nothing one person can do.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Good lord, it's almost April
It's been one hell of a year so far.
So January was essentially lost to the influenza virus. I've never had the flu before, and I tell you--the flu is no joke. Everyone who says they "have the flu" when they just have a bad cold doesn't realize how much they are tempting fate. I spent four weeks trying to recover, and all the way into mid February just trying to return to my regular schedule.
In February, I caught another cold. Well, damn. This one was a cold and not another bout of the flu, but since I hadn't fully recovered I was smacked down again.
This brings us to March. I've been trying repeatedly to get back to the box and get back to healthy eating, and I've been severely exhausted. I finally gave up on getting help from my regular doctors and went outside my health insurance to a holistic practitioner. I saw him on a friday night, and without even running tests he looked at me and said he was 90% certain I had a thyroid condition. But, in the interest of corroborating evidence, he ordered a whole slew of blood tests and gave me some supplements and directions to follow until we got the results back.
Supplements, I could do. I was already taking iron per my neurologist to help with headaches and migraines, prescribed because he discovered that my ferritin levels were....8 (range 12-150). I was already taking D3 per my endocrinologist, prescribed because my D3 was...12 (range 65-85). He added vitamin B12 and L-tryptophan to help with sleep, and L-theanine (green tea extract) to boost my metabolism. He also wanted me on a quarter grain (16.25 micrograms) of Nature Throid, a natural thyroid supplement. So I've got a nice little pile of pills to take right now along with my regular allergy and asthma medications and inhalers. Sigh. Getting old sucks.
But anyway.
The diet I gave up on before I tried it. I have to admit, I was just done. I was so frustrated and so burned out on putting energy into fighting an invisible foe that I just ate what I wanted. I try to be gluten free and I have for about 8 years now, well before it was a popular concept, because I have long known that gluten and wheat tear me up. But when I'm disheartened and frustrated and hopeless I don't care how bad my body feels. I just couldn't fight anymore.
So the last two and a half weeks have been careless. I own it, I admit it. I've been feeling really run down, and I felt hopeless.
Then I got a call from Dr. Joe.
He told me that he had numbers for me, and they were a good and bad thing.
TGAb, an anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than zero. Mine was 44.
TPO, another anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than 8. Mine was 52.
FreeT3 and T4 were both "low normal". TSH was high.
Estradiol was high.
Vitamin D, when I already take a 5000IU supplement every day, was 35. It should be above 65, and Dr. Joe would like to see mine closer to 85.
He told me that this all points to the autoimmune disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. My own immune system is attacking my thyroid, and causing havoc throughout the metabolic systems in my body.
My headaches? Hashi's symptom.
Constantly cold? Hashi's symptom.
Dry skin? Hashi's.
Acid reflux no matter what food is eaten? Hashi's.
Thinning hair? Hashi's.
Brain fog? Hashi's.
Low body temperature? Hashi's.
Chronic respiratory issues? Hashi's.
Depression and bouts of mania? Hashi's.
Trouble sleeping? Hashi's.
Sudden rapid weight gain with no change in habits? Hashi's.
Difficulty losing weight in spite of good habits? Hashi's.
All the things I've noticed going wrong that I've just accepted and dealt with, or individual doctors have addressed without looking for an overarching cause...yeah. Hashi's symptoms. ALL OF THEM. Reading through the available information was like reading about my own life. Were they watching me? Was I being filmed? Was I being set up?
Dr. Joe was afraid he was giving me bad news and he repeatedly told me not to panic, that we'd get me set on a program to tackle this and get me feeling better at our next appointment. I didn't have a chance to explain to him that I'M NOT UPSET. I'm THRILLED. I have been fighting these little things, separately, for years. I have known, for years, that something is not right. The math does not work. Something in my body is going wrong, and I've tried repeatedly to get someone to help me diagnose what's going on. I'm thrilled to pieces to actually have an answer, and having such a well-known and well-studied answer (Hashi's was the first autoimmune disorder ever discovered) makes me feel fantastic. Now that I know what I'm fighting, and I'm not being blamed for eating too much or blindly told that I need to exercise more, I can fight. I can fell a known enemy.
I can do the diet. It's not much different from Whole30, honestly. I can do that. I can do exercise, once I get my energy back. I can stick with this because I know what I'm fighting and why I'm doing it. I also have the missing piece, the attention to the actual thyroid hormone and the other supplements I need, all being monitored as I progress. I can DO this.
I'm ready to get better.
So January was essentially lost to the influenza virus. I've never had the flu before, and I tell you--the flu is no joke. Everyone who says they "have the flu" when they just have a bad cold doesn't realize how much they are tempting fate. I spent four weeks trying to recover, and all the way into mid February just trying to return to my regular schedule.
In February, I caught another cold. Well, damn. This one was a cold and not another bout of the flu, but since I hadn't fully recovered I was smacked down again.
This brings us to March. I've been trying repeatedly to get back to the box and get back to healthy eating, and I've been severely exhausted. I finally gave up on getting help from my regular doctors and went outside my health insurance to a holistic practitioner. I saw him on a friday night, and without even running tests he looked at me and said he was 90% certain I had a thyroid condition. But, in the interest of corroborating evidence, he ordered a whole slew of blood tests and gave me some supplements and directions to follow until we got the results back.
Supplements, I could do. I was already taking iron per my neurologist to help with headaches and migraines, prescribed because he discovered that my ferritin levels were....8 (range 12-150). I was already taking D3 per my endocrinologist, prescribed because my D3 was...12 (range 65-85). He added vitamin B12 and L-tryptophan to help with sleep, and L-theanine (green tea extract) to boost my metabolism. He also wanted me on a quarter grain (16.25 micrograms) of Nature Throid, a natural thyroid supplement. So I've got a nice little pile of pills to take right now along with my regular allergy and asthma medications and inhalers. Sigh. Getting old sucks.
But anyway.
The diet I gave up on before I tried it. I have to admit, I was just done. I was so frustrated and so burned out on putting energy into fighting an invisible foe that I just ate what I wanted. I try to be gluten free and I have for about 8 years now, well before it was a popular concept, because I have long known that gluten and wheat tear me up. But when I'm disheartened and frustrated and hopeless I don't care how bad my body feels. I just couldn't fight anymore.
So the last two and a half weeks have been careless. I own it, I admit it. I've been feeling really run down, and I felt hopeless.
Then I got a call from Dr. Joe.
He told me that he had numbers for me, and they were a good and bad thing.
TGAb, an anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than zero. Mine was 44.
TPO, another anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than 8. Mine was 52.
FreeT3 and T4 were both "low normal". TSH was high.
Estradiol was high.
Vitamin D, when I already take a 5000IU supplement every day, was 35. It should be above 65, and Dr. Joe would like to see mine closer to 85.
He told me that this all points to the autoimmune disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. My own immune system is attacking my thyroid, and causing havoc throughout the metabolic systems in my body.
My headaches? Hashi's symptom.
Constantly cold? Hashi's symptom.
Dry skin? Hashi's.
Acid reflux no matter what food is eaten? Hashi's.
Thinning hair? Hashi's.
Brain fog? Hashi's.
Low body temperature? Hashi's.
Chronic respiratory issues? Hashi's.
Depression and bouts of mania? Hashi's.
Trouble sleeping? Hashi's.
Sudden rapid weight gain with no change in habits? Hashi's.
Difficulty losing weight in spite of good habits? Hashi's.
All the things I've noticed going wrong that I've just accepted and dealt with, or individual doctors have addressed without looking for an overarching cause...yeah. Hashi's symptoms. ALL OF THEM. Reading through the available information was like reading about my own life. Were they watching me? Was I being filmed? Was I being set up?
Dr. Joe was afraid he was giving me bad news and he repeatedly told me not to panic, that we'd get me set on a program to tackle this and get me feeling better at our next appointment. I didn't have a chance to explain to him that I'M NOT UPSET. I'm THRILLED. I have been fighting these little things, separately, for years. I have known, for years, that something is not right. The math does not work. Something in my body is going wrong, and I've tried repeatedly to get someone to help me diagnose what's going on. I'm thrilled to pieces to actually have an answer, and having such a well-known and well-studied answer (Hashi's was the first autoimmune disorder ever discovered) makes me feel fantastic. Now that I know what I'm fighting, and I'm not being blamed for eating too much or blindly told that I need to exercise more, I can fight. I can fell a known enemy.
I can do the diet. It's not much different from Whole30, honestly. I can do that. I can do exercise, once I get my energy back. I can stick with this because I know what I'm fighting and why I'm doing it. I also have the missing piece, the attention to the actual thyroid hormone and the other supplements I need, all being monitored as I progress. I can DO this.
I'm ready to get better.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
February Nutrition Challenge
My next nutrition challenge starts today! The last formal challenge was 80 days, but I've done this for years so I've got the basics in my head already. I wrote a nutrition guide for the box, about 12 pages, and put in these general recommendations:
*for weight loss, multiply your weight by 10-12 and shoot for that number of calories
*protein is a MUST MUST MUST! Shoot for 0.8-1.0 gram per pound of body weight
*restrict carbs to fruits and veggies--the closer to the way it grew, the better
I'm trying to plan out some meals, and I'm confounded by getting enough protein. To get the amount of protein I need it's just LOT of food--protein doesn't exist on its own, it's usually coupled with fat. And it just means a huge volume of food. 4 eggs contain about 300 calories, 20 grams of fat, and 25 grams of protein. If you do the math on that, I'd need nearly 4 DOZEN eggs. I'd be right around the right number of calories, but jesus. No one can eat 4 dozen eggs in a day!
Also a challenge is that when you're not eating sugar or processed foods, you're not eating empty calories. Hitting a calorie goal becomes much harder in the reverse direction--eating ENOUGH calories is a challenge. Whole foods are filling foods, especially when you're focused on protein. It becomes something you have to think about, a lot, just to make it happen. Thankfully I've been working really hard with Dr. Matt, and I'm doing really well at keeping myself in a good mental place.
Now I'm absolutely willing to be open about my issues with food. I own it. The food I have chosen to put in my body has gotten me into this mess. But getting out seems nearly impossible.
I have a calorie goal. I have a protein goal. I have to focus on those goals, but even more important than that is to focus on the idea that those are GOALS. They are not absolutes, and they are not mandates. I will do the best I can, and see how my body responds.
This morning I ate sausages. I'm planning meatballs (no breadcrumbs) and salad with chicken for later. Breakfast and lunch are made for tomorrow, and I should have enough leftover meatballs for tomorrow's dinner. So if I get up and get those made, I should be good to go. ;)
And box in the AM! YAY!
*for weight loss, multiply your weight by 10-12 and shoot for that number of calories
*protein is a MUST MUST MUST! Shoot for 0.8-1.0 gram per pound of body weight
*restrict carbs to fruits and veggies--the closer to the way it grew, the better
I'm trying to plan out some meals, and I'm confounded by getting enough protein. To get the amount of protein I need it's just LOT of food--protein doesn't exist on its own, it's usually coupled with fat. And it just means a huge volume of food. 4 eggs contain about 300 calories, 20 grams of fat, and 25 grams of protein. If you do the math on that, I'd need nearly 4 DOZEN eggs. I'd be right around the right number of calories, but jesus. No one can eat 4 dozen eggs in a day!
Also a challenge is that when you're not eating sugar or processed foods, you're not eating empty calories. Hitting a calorie goal becomes much harder in the reverse direction--eating ENOUGH calories is a challenge. Whole foods are filling foods, especially when you're focused on protein. It becomes something you have to think about, a lot, just to make it happen. Thankfully I've been working really hard with Dr. Matt, and I'm doing really well at keeping myself in a good mental place.
Now I'm absolutely willing to be open about my issues with food. I own it. The food I have chosen to put in my body has gotten me into this mess. But getting out seems nearly impossible.
I have a calorie goal. I have a protein goal. I have to focus on those goals, but even more important than that is to focus on the idea that those are GOALS. They are not absolutes, and they are not mandates. I will do the best I can, and see how my body responds.
This morning I ate sausages. I'm planning meatballs (no breadcrumbs) and salad with chicken for later. Breakfast and lunch are made for tomorrow, and I should have enough leftover meatballs for tomorrow's dinner. So if I get up and get those made, I should be good to go. ;)
And box in the AM! YAY!
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Let's get this party started!
My last post was over a month ago. We went on vacation--a long road trip to Portland/Vancouver and home down the coast-- for a week over the new year. It was a wonderful drive, lots of talking and laughing and music, and I was very glad to have the chance to spend the time with my husband. Then we got home, the night before my rebirthday. I woke up that morning and did some errands, then decided I was feeling poorly and was going to lie down for awhile. 17 hours later, I dragged myself into work and suffered through the day. "Don't hesitate to call in," my supervisor told me that evening. And thus I was out with the influenza virus for a week. I dragged myself back into work, running at about 65%, the next week and suffered through. The next week I started to feel a bit more like myself. By the time I was completely myself again, three and a half weeks had gone by and January was gone.
The influenza virus is no joke this year. I usually have a robust immune system, and this slapped me down hard. Two days after I went down with it my husband started rocking a 102.6F fever, so he went to Urgent Care and that's where he was diagnosed. They gave him Tamiflu, but because I was outside the 48 hour onset window (I had been self medicating with Nyquil and pineapple orange juice, and the combination of aspirin and vitamin C meant I never broke a high fever) I had to suffer through without any help. And I did, and I'm fine now--just a bit of the productive cough left--but I was shocked by how firmly I got slapped down.
What it meant, though, was that January was gone before I knew it, and with January that "New Years" resolve. I did the best I could, but there was a bit of time there when "the best I could" was a couple of pieces of pizza and a glass of orange juice for the day. I haven't yet been to the box regularly this year. I went twice on vacation, and had a wonderful WOD at Crossfit Roseburg. I also went to Crossfit Pearl District in Portland. I was happy to go to different boxes, and full of plans for attacking my WODs fresh in the new year.
Then I got sick.
I went to the saturday free class last week, and was shocked by how far back I'd slid. I knew my lungs were battered, but I was truly shocked by the fact that I couldn't even make it through a full fence run (200 meters). We had a 15 minute AMRAP, and I just focused on my own workout and kept going. Saturday's workouts are for beginners interested in testing out the Crossfit style of workout and the box, so it was all bodyweight work. In 15 minutes other people finished 7, 9, 11+ rounds. I finished 5. I spoke briefly with Mick, and sulked a bit about how fast I'd lost everything I'd worked so hard to develop over the previous 4 months. "It'll come back faster than that," Mick assured me.
I came tuesday. I opted for OFP (Own F^king Program) because I didn't think my lungs would handle the running in the prescribed WOD. Still battling the immense fatigue and lack of stamina, coupled with a sharply ramped up work schedule, I didn't make it into the box again. Then it was saturday again, and I decided to go to the beginner's intro WOD.
We have quite a few new members, and I recognized very few people. None of the regulars were there except Emily and Sian. Hmmm. Did something happen? I've obviously been really out of the loop. It turns out that everyone else was at the Battle At the Barracks, and I'd forgotten. Oops. I'm sorry guys, you know I'd have come to cheer you on!
We've been in the process of setting up a bigger box around the corner, and today was the day that everything had to be moved. Our WOD consisted of:
*with a partner, grab two bars and transport them to the new box 1/4 mile away
*run back and do 30 box jumps
*grab a medball and transport it to the new box
*run back and do 30 pullups
*grab a kettlebell and transport it to the new box
*run back and do 30 pushups
This was great for me. There were no times, no weights, nothing recorded on the whiteboard. It gave me a chance to complete a WOD with no competitive edge at all. With nothing recorded, I wasn't even competing with myself. I had a chance to do these "crazy Crossfit things" and get familiar with the feel of the iron, but no opportunity to judge myself and find myself lacking. After the exhaustion of last week, I needed an opportunity to get back in the box and push myself gently. I couldn't have asked for a better return.
Onward to February!
The influenza virus is no joke this year. I usually have a robust immune system, and this slapped me down hard. Two days after I went down with it my husband started rocking a 102.6F fever, so he went to Urgent Care and that's where he was diagnosed. They gave him Tamiflu, but because I was outside the 48 hour onset window (I had been self medicating with Nyquil and pineapple orange juice, and the combination of aspirin and vitamin C meant I never broke a high fever) I had to suffer through without any help. And I did, and I'm fine now--just a bit of the productive cough left--but I was shocked by how firmly I got slapped down.
What it meant, though, was that January was gone before I knew it, and with January that "New Years" resolve. I did the best I could, but there was a bit of time there when "the best I could" was a couple of pieces of pizza and a glass of orange juice for the day. I haven't yet been to the box regularly this year. I went twice on vacation, and had a wonderful WOD at Crossfit Roseburg. I also went to Crossfit Pearl District in Portland. I was happy to go to different boxes, and full of plans for attacking my WODs fresh in the new year.
Then I got sick.
I went to the saturday free class last week, and was shocked by how far back I'd slid. I knew my lungs were battered, but I was truly shocked by the fact that I couldn't even make it through a full fence run (200 meters). We had a 15 minute AMRAP, and I just focused on my own workout and kept going. Saturday's workouts are for beginners interested in testing out the Crossfit style of workout and the box, so it was all bodyweight work. In 15 minutes other people finished 7, 9, 11+ rounds. I finished 5. I spoke briefly with Mick, and sulked a bit about how fast I'd lost everything I'd worked so hard to develop over the previous 4 months. "It'll come back faster than that," Mick assured me.
I came tuesday. I opted for OFP (Own F^king Program) because I didn't think my lungs would handle the running in the prescribed WOD. Still battling the immense fatigue and lack of stamina, coupled with a sharply ramped up work schedule, I didn't make it into the box again. Then it was saturday again, and I decided to go to the beginner's intro WOD.
We have quite a few new members, and I recognized very few people. None of the regulars were there except Emily and Sian. Hmmm. Did something happen? I've obviously been really out of the loop. It turns out that everyone else was at the Battle At the Barracks, and I'd forgotten. Oops. I'm sorry guys, you know I'd have come to cheer you on!
We've been in the process of setting up a bigger box around the corner, and today was the day that everything had to be moved. Our WOD consisted of:
*with a partner, grab two bars and transport them to the new box 1/4 mile away
*run back and do 30 box jumps
*grab a medball and transport it to the new box
*run back and do 30 pullups
*grab a kettlebell and transport it to the new box
*run back and do 30 pushups
This was great for me. There were no times, no weights, nothing recorded on the whiteboard. It gave me a chance to complete a WOD with no competitive edge at all. With nothing recorded, I wasn't even competing with myself. I had a chance to do these "crazy Crossfit things" and get familiar with the feel of the iron, but no opportunity to judge myself and find myself lacking. After the exhaustion of last week, I needed an opportunity to get back in the box and push myself gently. I couldn't have asked for a better return.
Onward to February!
Friday, December 26, 2014
The 200 Club
When I first started forming strength goals, Tiffany told me about the 200 Club, an unofficial "club" of those who reach a 200 pound deadlift. The idea appealed to me, and I set a 6 month goal. By 2/23/15, I was going to deadlift 200 pounds.
My PR on 11/25 was 185 for 3 reps. I was so close, but we'd been spending time on snatch and ignoring deadlift. I was still intent on going to the box, and I pulled up at 5:10am.
Mick arrived shortly and let us in. SWOD: deadlift 5/4/4/3/2, he wrote on the board. Oh yeah, I told myself. Hitting 200 today! I scurried around to build a bar.
"Starting heavy!" Mick commented on my bar. I bent and lifted for 5 reps, then dropped the 135# bar. "Nah, this is light," I said.
I added plates and repped. Added plates and repped. 155#. 175#. 195#. "Wanna add 5 pounds?" I said out loud, channeling my inner Cassie. I chuckled and added 5 pounds. The vaunted 200 pound bar rested at my feet.
I thought of Tiffany and all of her sports psych coaching. Chalking my hands, I clapped twice and shook them off. Turning back to the bar, I told myself, "You've got this! You are strong! This will be great! You've got this!" I imagined myself, hands wrapped securely around the bar, driving my heels in to the ground and standing up with perfect form. Easy peasy.
I wrapped my hands around the bar, thumbs behind and fingers in front. I straightened my knees and pushed my butt back until I felt tension in my hamstrings. I rocked my heels back and felt contact with the floor through my barefoot shoes. I tightened my back and felt my shoulderblades pinch and slide down my back. I looked up, noticed Mick watching me, and tensed. Like a smooth hydraulic lift, I gripped the bar and lifted it with me as I stood.
"Yeah Erin!" Mick yelled and turned to write it on the PR board.
I'm a member of the 200 Pound Club.
My PR on 11/25 was 185 for 3 reps. I was so close, but we'd been spending time on snatch and ignoring deadlift. I was still intent on going to the box, and I pulled up at 5:10am.
Mick arrived shortly and let us in. SWOD: deadlift 5/4/4/3/2, he wrote on the board. Oh yeah, I told myself. Hitting 200 today! I scurried around to build a bar.
"Starting heavy!" Mick commented on my bar. I bent and lifted for 5 reps, then dropped the 135# bar. "Nah, this is light," I said.
I added plates and repped. Added plates and repped. 155#. 175#. 195#. "Wanna add 5 pounds?" I said out loud, channeling my inner Cassie. I chuckled and added 5 pounds. The vaunted 200 pound bar rested at my feet.
I thought of Tiffany and all of her sports psych coaching. Chalking my hands, I clapped twice and shook them off. Turning back to the bar, I told myself, "You've got this! You are strong! This will be great! You've got this!" I imagined myself, hands wrapped securely around the bar, driving my heels in to the ground and standing up with perfect form. Easy peasy.
I wrapped my hands around the bar, thumbs behind and fingers in front. I straightened my knees and pushed my butt back until I felt tension in my hamstrings. I rocked my heels back and felt contact with the floor through my barefoot shoes. I tightened my back and felt my shoulderblades pinch and slide down my back. I looked up, noticed Mick watching me, and tensed. Like a smooth hydraulic lift, I gripped the bar and lifted it with me as I stood.
"Yeah Erin!" Mick yelled and turned to write it on the PR board.
I'm a member of the 200 Pound Club.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Achieving goals
I jogged into the box at 5:31am. Because I arrived early I had headed out to do a mile run warmup, and I was just getting back. Other boxmates streamed around me as I came in the door. I asked what we were doing, and Monica said, "You don't want to know," as she ran out the door. Uh oh.
Stef was standing in front of the board. I read over his shoulder:
BADGER (40 min cap)
3 rounds for time:
30 squat cleans
30 pullups
800 meter run
Ummm...yikes. Stef and I quickly conferred and decided that I could sub ring rows for pullups. I was intimidated as hell, but I was game to try. Okay. There were only five of us in the class, since it was Christmas Eve. Okay. I could just hack away at it. I'm only competing with myself.
I'm still working on form for squat cleans, and I slowed down considerably with my first 30. While I was working on ring rows Stef offered the option of only doing 400s for the 800s, and I gladly accepted. Gamely I headed out the door into the predawn.
Coming back in from my first 400, my legs were rubbery but I was still in the game. I Approached my bar.
"Break it up!" Stef called to the room. "Sets of 5, sets of 10. Whatever it takes!"
I worked through 8 and paused at the top. Two more is just two, then you can drop, I told myself. I set my feet and squatted to grab the bar. Up. Fast elbows. Squat. Up. I paused. One more... I coached myself through one more and dropped the bar. Wandering the room, I admired everyone else who was just as intent on their game. Phiew. Back to my bar, I broke it up to sets of 5 and got it done.
Ring rows and out the door. It was still cool, and still dark. "Way to go Monica!" I yelled at the tiny figure approaching me. I walked to the top of the hill and jogged. Jog to the street, walk the street, jog to the fire hydrant, I bargained with myself. My legs felt miserable but I kept going.
Back in the box for the last round, I broke up the cleans into sets of five but still my form was failing. I panted and walked it off, tried again. The sets seemed to drag on impossibly, but I finally got them done. I settled in for ring rows and glanced at the clock. 37:36. Crap, I thought.
"Hey Stef!" I yelled. "I'm gonna finish, just watch the clock for me, okay?" I finished my 30 and was out the door.
Goaded on by the idea that Stef was watching his clock to add time onto my 40 minutes, I jogged to the top of the hill. My legs wobbled and my feet seemed to land at odd angles. I focused on my breathing and dropped to a walk. Walking was a struggle, too. My left leg seemed to lag behind my body and I dragged it with me. I was the last one out there of the 5 of us, but I was going to finish.
Turning at the fire hydrant, I faced up the hill. Damn, I thought, and consciously changed my thinking. You're so close! You're almost done! I repeated to myself as I dragged up the hill. I walked to the top of the hill outside the door, then willed my legs to lift and shuffled to the box.
"41:25!" Stef yelled. "Way to go Erin!" He wrote my time on the board, along with a special note that read, 1 mile warm up run, WAY TO GO ERIN! I collapsed on the floor and glowed. I finished. As I panted I also realized I'd finished a WOD with 400s. Another goal met!
"You know, four months ago you couldn't have done that," Stef looked at me.
"I could barely do it now!" I chuckled, still panting.
"But four months ago, you'd have tapped out in the first round," Stef persisted. "Getting better every day, girl."
Stef was standing in front of the board. I read over his shoulder:
BADGER (40 min cap)
3 rounds for time:
30 squat cleans
30 pullups
800 meter run
Ummm...yikes. Stef and I quickly conferred and decided that I could sub ring rows for pullups. I was intimidated as hell, but I was game to try. Okay. There were only five of us in the class, since it was Christmas Eve. Okay. I could just hack away at it. I'm only competing with myself.
I'm still working on form for squat cleans, and I slowed down considerably with my first 30. While I was working on ring rows Stef offered the option of only doing 400s for the 800s, and I gladly accepted. Gamely I headed out the door into the predawn.
Coming back in from my first 400, my legs were rubbery but I was still in the game. I Approached my bar.
"Break it up!" Stef called to the room. "Sets of 5, sets of 10. Whatever it takes!"
I worked through 8 and paused at the top. Two more is just two, then you can drop, I told myself. I set my feet and squatted to grab the bar. Up. Fast elbows. Squat. Up. I paused. One more... I coached myself through one more and dropped the bar. Wandering the room, I admired everyone else who was just as intent on their game. Phiew. Back to my bar, I broke it up to sets of 5 and got it done.
Ring rows and out the door. It was still cool, and still dark. "Way to go Monica!" I yelled at the tiny figure approaching me. I walked to the top of the hill and jogged. Jog to the street, walk the street, jog to the fire hydrant, I bargained with myself. My legs felt miserable but I kept going.
Back in the box for the last round, I broke up the cleans into sets of five but still my form was failing. I panted and walked it off, tried again. The sets seemed to drag on impossibly, but I finally got them done. I settled in for ring rows and glanced at the clock. 37:36. Crap, I thought.
"Hey Stef!" I yelled. "I'm gonna finish, just watch the clock for me, okay?" I finished my 30 and was out the door.
Goaded on by the idea that Stef was watching his clock to add time onto my 40 minutes, I jogged to the top of the hill. My legs wobbled and my feet seemed to land at odd angles. I focused on my breathing and dropped to a walk. Walking was a struggle, too. My left leg seemed to lag behind my body and I dragged it with me. I was the last one out there of the 5 of us, but I was going to finish.
Turning at the fire hydrant, I faced up the hill. Damn, I thought, and consciously changed my thinking. You're so close! You're almost done! I repeated to myself as I dragged up the hill. I walked to the top of the hill outside the door, then willed my legs to lift and shuffled to the box.
"41:25!" Stef yelled. "Way to go Erin!" He wrote my time on the board, along with a special note that read, 1 mile warm up run, WAY TO GO ERIN! I collapsed on the floor and glowed. I finished. As I panted I also realized I'd finished a WOD with 400s. Another goal met!
"You know, four months ago you couldn't have done that," Stef looked at me.
"I could barely do it now!" I chuckled, still panting.
"But four months ago, you'd have tapped out in the first round," Stef persisted. "Getting better every day, girl."
Monday, December 22, 2014
Taking steps forward!
This morning I got an automated phone call. The mechanical voice told me that there was a space available for me in Nutrition 150, a class I wait-listed two weeks ago. Jubilant, I logged on and added the class. I'm taking Nutrition 150 in the spring!
Why am I taking this class? I graduated from San Diego State University in 2003 with a degree in Kinesiology, emphasis pre Physical Therapy. Then I got an AS from Mesa College in Physical Therapy Assisting, and I've been doing that for more than 7 years. But SDSU offers a dual Masters degree in Exercise Physiology and Nutrition Sciences, and that's what I want to do now. And Nutrition is a prerequisite.
And why do I want to do this? Why, indeed. Everything I'm reading and everything I'm experiencing leads me to think that there is a link, and a unity, between variable high-intensity exercise (Crossfit style) and a whole, natural food diet. I want to know what that link is. I want to quantify what happens in the body. I want to explore the changes in metabolic pathway utilization with those two variables intact. And I want to write a book, and sell it, and help people like me. Some people have what I have always thought of as "workhorse bodies": we are stocky and strong and function well on meat-and-veg. Our bodies, you could argue, have evolved less than others and we still need basic, essential activity and nutrition. I want to explore that. I want to understand that. I want to know WHY, so that I can teach other people HOW.
Why am I taking this class? I graduated from San Diego State University in 2003 with a degree in Kinesiology, emphasis pre Physical Therapy. Then I got an AS from Mesa College in Physical Therapy Assisting, and I've been doing that for more than 7 years. But SDSU offers a dual Masters degree in Exercise Physiology and Nutrition Sciences, and that's what I want to do now. And Nutrition is a prerequisite.
And why do I want to do this? Why, indeed. Everything I'm reading and everything I'm experiencing leads me to think that there is a link, and a unity, between variable high-intensity exercise (Crossfit style) and a whole, natural food diet. I want to know what that link is. I want to quantify what happens in the body. I want to explore the changes in metabolic pathway utilization with those two variables intact. And I want to write a book, and sell it, and help people like me. Some people have what I have always thought of as "workhorse bodies": we are stocky and strong and function well on meat-and-veg. Our bodies, you could argue, have evolved less than others and we still need basic, essential activity and nutrition. I want to explore that. I want to understand that. I want to know WHY, so that I can teach other people HOW.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
As for eating goals...
I swear, I jinx myself by saying things are going well.
I in no way take my patients' generosity for granted. It's lovely of them to offer us things, and I really do appreciate the consideration and the thought. The unfortunate thing is that their generosity veers in the direction of food "treats". And you can rest assured that, as with most people, "treats" doesn't mean fruits and veggies.
This morning a patient arrived with chocolate cupcakes iced with vanilla frosting and topped with sugar snowflakes. She baked them for us! I thanked her very nicely and put them in the office.
Then my student's clinic coordinator arrived for a midterm check, and brought us a pound of Belgian chocolates and a pound of peppermint bark. I thanked her and put them behind me while we discussed my student, out of my line of sight in the office.
Then a patient arrived with 4 gourmet chocolate-caramel-nut covered apples from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. I thanked her and put them in the office.
Then a patient brought us "candy canes" filled with Hershey's Kisses and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I opened those and poured them into a small bucket by the sign-in sheet, so people can help themselves.
Then my husband texted me a picture from his business trip to Portland. He explained that he was going to check his carry-on because he had acquired a new carry on: a huge pink box from Voodoo Doughnuts.
The cupcake I gave away. The chocolate I gave away. The apple I'm saving to see if my husband wants it. The doughnuts...I honestly don't know. A bite of each? Pick one and enjoy it and get right back on track? Ignore them and throw my husband's gift right back in his face? The chocolates and the apple were easy--I looked at them and thought, "If I wanted to I could go straight to the store and buy this for myself at any time." Decision made. The doughnuts...yes, I can get doughnuts any time. No, I can't get Voodoo Doughnuts, and I'm not likely to be in Portland--I'm in San Diego, at the very bottom of California--anytime soon. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. So maybe...a bite of each doughnut I can't get around here? Ugh, I swear!
At any rate, whatever I decide, I know the next step: right back on track. I already have the meals cooked.
I in no way take my patients' generosity for granted. It's lovely of them to offer us things, and I really do appreciate the consideration and the thought. The unfortunate thing is that their generosity veers in the direction of food "treats". And you can rest assured that, as with most people, "treats" doesn't mean fruits and veggies.
This morning a patient arrived with chocolate cupcakes iced with vanilla frosting and topped with sugar snowflakes. She baked them for us! I thanked her very nicely and put them in the office.
Then my student's clinic coordinator arrived for a midterm check, and brought us a pound of Belgian chocolates and a pound of peppermint bark. I thanked her and put them behind me while we discussed my student, out of my line of sight in the office.
Then a patient arrived with 4 gourmet chocolate-caramel-nut covered apples from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. I thanked her and put them in the office.
Then a patient brought us "candy canes" filled with Hershey's Kisses and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I opened those and poured them into a small bucket by the sign-in sheet, so people can help themselves.
Then my husband texted me a picture from his business trip to Portland. He explained that he was going to check his carry-on because he had acquired a new carry on: a huge pink box from Voodoo Doughnuts.
The cupcake I gave away. The chocolate I gave away. The apple I'm saving to see if my husband wants it. The doughnuts...I honestly don't know. A bite of each? Pick one and enjoy it and get right back on track? Ignore them and throw my husband's gift right back in his face? The chocolates and the apple were easy--I looked at them and thought, "If I wanted to I could go straight to the store and buy this for myself at any time." Decision made. The doughnuts...yes, I can get doughnuts any time. No, I can't get Voodoo Doughnuts, and I'm not likely to be in Portland--I'm in San Diego, at the very bottom of California--anytime soon. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. So maybe...a bite of each doughnut I can't get around here? Ugh, I swear!
At any rate, whatever I decide, I know the next step: right back on track. I already have the meals cooked.
Set some goals!
I don't like resolutions. There's this culture of "start on January 1st, give up in three weeks, and hate yourself all year because you're not doing what you said you were going to do" that I can't get behind. I can't support the idea of expecting myself to fail. Nor can I support hating myself for doing what I expected myself to do. It's all a set up, and I just don't do it.
With that said, I do generally have an idea what I want to accomplish in the coming year. Of course, "the coming year" is from whenever I say it is, not from January 1. Right now I have a series of 10 goals for Crossfit. I've achieved 4 of them, and I'm definitely making headway toward the others.
One of my first goals was to run the 400 meter. That's it. No walking! Running has always been a trial for me, always something my body just didn't want to do. Even Mick, my box owner, admits, "you're just built for strength. You're not built for speed." Which is why I can deadlift 185# after only 4 months at the box, and I still struggle with that damned 400. Most of the time (not consistently yet) I can run the 400 one time. Most of the time.
So the 400 meter has become a series of goals:
*Run the 400 without walking 10/21/14!
*Run the 400 in less than 4:30
*Run the 400 in less than 4 minutes
*Run the 400 as part of a WOD
*Run the 400 in less than 3:30
*Run the 400 in less than 3 minutes
*Run the 400 in less than 2:30
My deadlift is at 185# as a 1RM, and I set a goal for 6 months:
*Deadlift 200# by 2/23/15
There are also goals that pertain to overhead/push press (103# by 2/13/15) and pullups (1 strict pullup by 8/23/15).
One goal that I have put on my list is a Level 1 Crossfit cert after 8/23/15. I want to give myself a year in the box, then I want to pursue a cert. My dream is to specialize, kind of design my own focus, if you will, on working with the obese and the injured. But, just like running, I've got to start with the basics. Level 1 cert is first.
I love having goals. I love having little goals, so I can achieve things regularly. If they get me to my ultimate goal, who cares how little they are or how often I congratulate myself on making progress? The more the merrier, I say.
With that said, I do generally have an idea what I want to accomplish in the coming year. Of course, "the coming year" is from whenever I say it is, not from January 1. Right now I have a series of 10 goals for Crossfit. I've achieved 4 of them, and I'm definitely making headway toward the others.
One of my first goals was to run the 400 meter. That's it. No walking! Running has always been a trial for me, always something my body just didn't want to do. Even Mick, my box owner, admits, "you're just built for strength. You're not built for speed." Which is why I can deadlift 185# after only 4 months at the box, and I still struggle with that damned 400. Most of the time (not consistently yet) I can run the 400 one time. Most of the time.
So the 400 meter has become a series of goals:
*Run the 400 in less than 4:30
*Run the 400 in less than 4 minutes
*Run the 400 as part of a WOD
*Run the 400 in less than 3:30
*Run the 400 in less than 3 minutes
*Run the 400 in less than 2:30
My deadlift is at 185# as a 1RM, and I set a goal for 6 months:
*Deadlift 200# by 2/23/15
There are also goals that pertain to overhead/push press (103# by 2/13/15) and pullups (1 strict pullup by 8/23/15).
One goal that I have put on my list is a Level 1 Crossfit cert after 8/23/15. I want to give myself a year in the box, then I want to pursue a cert. My dream is to specialize, kind of design my own focus, if you will, on working with the obese and the injured. But, just like running, I've got to start with the basics. Level 1 cert is first.
I love having goals. I love having little goals, so I can achieve things regularly. If they get me to my ultimate goal, who cares how little they are or how often I congratulate myself on making progress? The more the merrier, I say.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Change is where it's at, baby
"Are you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier to self-sabotage than fail?"
Today is day 63--the last day of my 9th week. I wrote about struggling emotionally a week or so ago, but for the largest part it's been smooth sailing. I haven't really been having "cravings" per se. There's been no distinct point where my body/mind told me that if I had X food, then I would be better, IhavetohavethisfoodNOWdammit. What I have experienced is a consciousness that I was in a situation where, in the past, I would turn to food as a solution. And I've certainly had moments of thinking, "oh, these donuts smell good," or "the caffeine kick from a mocha would wake me up this morning," but there has been no desire to indulge myself. On the tail end of those thoughts has consistently been either an idle shrug because I really don't care, or a momentary pause and the thought, "but I want something else." And since I know very very well what that something else is, the 'craving' dissipates without ever gaining a foothold.
So what do I want?
I want to feel confident, sexy, and desirable. (Yeah, yeah, I know "it's all in your mind", "it's all in your attitude", whatever. This is my list.)
I want to not be scared, when I board a plane, that I will have to ask for a seatbelt extender.
I want to be able to buy a pair of motorcycle chaps off-the-rack. Not that I WANT motorcycle chaps, understand, but I want to be able to.
I want to run the 400 meter (quarter mile) in less than 3 minutes.
I want to feel good about all of my food choices, knowing that they are getting me closer to my goals.
I want to go to England next year and not feel like everyone is looking at me as "that fat American lady."
I want to keep feeling better, and keep feeling like I'm actually making progress in my life instead of watching my life pass me by.
For me, there is no "Finish" to the program. I'm not planning to be "done" with this. I completely changed for it, in every way I could. I can't self-sabotage because that would mean completely changing everything in another direction, and it would take too much work for these habits to fall apart. One habit builds on and protects the others, so the entire set has to fall before I "fail". There's security and there's confidence in doing it this way. It's a sarcastic answer, maybe, but if you change everything it's too much effort to change it back.
Today is day 63--the last day of my 9th week. I wrote about struggling emotionally a week or so ago, but for the largest part it's been smooth sailing. I haven't really been having "cravings" per se. There's been no distinct point where my body/mind told me that if I had X food, then I would be better, IhavetohavethisfoodNOWdammit. What I have experienced is a consciousness that I was in a situation where, in the past, I would turn to food as a solution. And I've certainly had moments of thinking, "oh, these donuts smell good," or "the caffeine kick from a mocha would wake me up this morning," but there has been no desire to indulge myself. On the tail end of those thoughts has consistently been either an idle shrug because I really don't care, or a momentary pause and the thought, "but I want something else." And since I know very very well what that something else is, the 'craving' dissipates without ever gaining a foothold.
So what do I want?
I want to feel confident, sexy, and desirable. (Yeah, yeah, I know "it's all in your mind", "it's all in your attitude", whatever. This is my list.)
I want to not be scared, when I board a plane, that I will have to ask for a seatbelt extender.
I want to be able to buy a pair of motorcycle chaps off-the-rack. Not that I WANT motorcycle chaps, understand, but I want to be able to.
I want to run the 400 meter (quarter mile) in less than 3 minutes.
I want to feel good about all of my food choices, knowing that they are getting me closer to my goals.
I want to go to England next year and not feel like everyone is looking at me as "that fat American lady."
I want to keep feeling better, and keep feeling like I'm actually making progress in my life instead of watching my life pass me by.
For me, there is no "Finish" to the program. I'm not planning to be "done" with this. I completely changed for it, in every way I could. I can't self-sabotage because that would mean completely changing everything in another direction, and it would take too much work for these habits to fall apart. One habit builds on and protects the others, so the entire set has to fall before I "fail". There's security and there's confidence in doing it this way. It's a sarcastic answer, maybe, but if you change everything it's too much effort to change it back.
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dpuf
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dpuf
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dpuf
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dp"
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Precision point
Rather than becoming bored with my routine and settled in my habits and thus letting things slip a little, I am becoming more and more focused.
Part of what they talk about in the Whole30 program (today is day 61!) is what happens in week 3-4. Sometime in that week people tend to just stop caring about food. Food is off the radar as a coping strategy, food does not call to them from the pantry, food is not their first consideration. It's not at the forefront of the mind. That happened to me, and as I've progressed in this program it's become even less and less of a concern. I did my grocery shopping this morning. I picked up some chicken thighs, picked up a couple of beautiful filets, grabbed a couple of things for my husband, and raided the produce section. Nothing called to me. Nothing tempted me. Nothing required my examination. I just wasn't interested. And it wasn't any effort--I wasn't using newly minted brain tricks or refocusing techniques. I just didn't care.
I came home and made some bacon and eggs, cut up an apple and made my tea.I was happy. I was content. I wasn't looking for anything else. It's an amazing freedom, to not be ruled by food. I imagine this is what those who are naturally thin feel like. Food is nice, don't get me wrong. Food is yummy. Food makes me feel awake and energized. Food helps me fuel my WODs and makes my lifts stronger. But that's all it does. It doesn't help me with communicating with my husband. It doesn't help me deal with frustrations at work. It doesn't stand in as a companion for friends who are far away.
I'm so grateful that I've finally realized that. I've finally gotten to a place where I am open to those lessons and I can truly grasp what they mean. It took me years, but I'm finally here.
Part of what they talk about in the Whole30 program (today is day 61!) is what happens in week 3-4. Sometime in that week people tend to just stop caring about food. Food is off the radar as a coping strategy, food does not call to them from the pantry, food is not their first consideration. It's not at the forefront of the mind. That happened to me, and as I've progressed in this program it's become even less and less of a concern. I did my grocery shopping this morning. I picked up some chicken thighs, picked up a couple of beautiful filets, grabbed a couple of things for my husband, and raided the produce section. Nothing called to me. Nothing tempted me. Nothing required my examination. I just wasn't interested. And it wasn't any effort--I wasn't using newly minted brain tricks or refocusing techniques. I just didn't care.
I came home and made some bacon and eggs, cut up an apple and made my tea.I was happy. I was content. I wasn't looking for anything else. It's an amazing freedom, to not be ruled by food. I imagine this is what those who are naturally thin feel like. Food is nice, don't get me wrong. Food is yummy. Food makes me feel awake and energized. Food helps me fuel my WODs and makes my lifts stronger. But that's all it does. It doesn't help me with communicating with my husband. It doesn't help me deal with frustrations at work. It doesn't stand in as a companion for friends who are far away.
I'm so grateful that I've finally realized that. I've finally gotten to a place where I am open to those lessons and I can truly grasp what they mean. It took me years, but I'm finally here.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
So what happens then?
I am intrigued by the question of, "what happens next?" that came to mind when I was reading Why We Get Fat. I have read extensively in the subject, and I can't remember ever seeing anything about nutrient partitioning as it relates to momentary food consumption.
There was an important part of the book that talked about how in the 1960s overeating and thus obesity became an issue of morality and personality, as opposed to the reality of living in a biological organism and having it respond to the world. Overeating was always a moral failing to me. It was always a question of personal responsibility, always an issue of my own flawed decisions. But if you take one step back, you realize that whatever body you inhabit still responds like a biological organism to stimuli. As much as you might want to, you can't control how quickly your heart beats. Try as you might, you can't will your food to digest faster. And just as similarly, you cannot control what your body does with food once you ingest it. The whole biological organism takes over, and your input is off the table.
So taking another step back, removing the question of morality and deadly sins from the picture, we are left with a question. We know calories are a measurement of heat, and a method of transferring energy from an edible substance to a body. Okay. We know that when we digest food, those calories are "absorbed" by the body. But once they are absorbed, where do they go? Yesterday I talked about nutrient partitioning and the ideal of "saver" and "spendthrift" bodies. We vaguely have the idea that some bodies store fat easier and some people eat as if they had a hollow leg, but what exactly is happening? What is causing some bodies to store half their calories? What mechanism makes other people able to eat a bowlful of ice cream every night and not see the effects? Thinner people have been shown, unarguably, to move more than heavier people. Fidgeting, walking, bigger body movements, more exercise, whatever. They move more because they have more energy in their cells and thus are able to move more, but WHY do they have more energy in their cells? What mechanism determines that their cells get the energy that has been transferred from food, instead of that energy being stored for future use?
This isn't easily answered by throwing out the word genetics. Genes are constantly being turned on and off in the body. And if it IS genetics, then what's going on? Is there a gene that determines that fat gets stored in cells last, as opposed to first? Can we switch that on? For people whose storage genes have been expressed, can we turn them off again?
What does it take to turn on the nutrient partitioning genes? How do we influence that? We know that ingestion of carbs influences the release of insulin, and the release of insulin helps store calories as fat. We're learning, through Crossfit and other more aggressive, more intense exercise styles, that with variable training demands comes different uses of the metabolic pathways. How do we couple those ideas together for people whose bodies want to store and rest? How do we quantify that so we know to what degree it's necessary to control those inputs?
That's what I want to know.
There was an important part of the book that talked about how in the 1960s overeating and thus obesity became an issue of morality and personality, as opposed to the reality of living in a biological organism and having it respond to the world. Overeating was always a moral failing to me. It was always a question of personal responsibility, always an issue of my own flawed decisions. But if you take one step back, you realize that whatever body you inhabit still responds like a biological organism to stimuli. As much as you might want to, you can't control how quickly your heart beats. Try as you might, you can't will your food to digest faster. And just as similarly, you cannot control what your body does with food once you ingest it. The whole biological organism takes over, and your input is off the table.
So taking another step back, removing the question of morality and deadly sins from the picture, we are left with a question. We know calories are a measurement of heat, and a method of transferring energy from an edible substance to a body. Okay. We know that when we digest food, those calories are "absorbed" by the body. But once they are absorbed, where do they go? Yesterday I talked about nutrient partitioning and the ideal of "saver" and "spendthrift" bodies. We vaguely have the idea that some bodies store fat easier and some people eat as if they had a hollow leg, but what exactly is happening? What is causing some bodies to store half their calories? What mechanism makes other people able to eat a bowlful of ice cream every night and not see the effects? Thinner people have been shown, unarguably, to move more than heavier people. Fidgeting, walking, bigger body movements, more exercise, whatever. They move more because they have more energy in their cells and thus are able to move more, but WHY do they have more energy in their cells? What mechanism determines that their cells get the energy that has been transferred from food, instead of that energy being stored for future use?
This isn't easily answered by throwing out the word genetics. Genes are constantly being turned on and off in the body. And if it IS genetics, then what's going on? Is there a gene that determines that fat gets stored in cells last, as opposed to first? Can we switch that on? For people whose storage genes have been expressed, can we turn them off again?
What does it take to turn on the nutrient partitioning genes? How do we influence that? We know that ingestion of carbs influences the release of insulin, and the release of insulin helps store calories as fat. We're learning, through Crossfit and other more aggressive, more intense exercise styles, that with variable training demands comes different uses of the metabolic pathways. How do we couple those ideas together for people whose bodies want to store and rest? How do we quantify that so we know to what degree it's necessary to control those inputs?
That's what I want to know.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Why do we get fat?
I'm reading Why We Get Fat by Gary Taubes. It's an easy read, science made accessible. It's informative and intelligent. It's well laid out...
And it is entirely validating of my own experience of my body.
The concept of weight loss and weight "management" is built around a principle of physics called the conservation of energy--simply, you can't make something from nothing, so the fat on your body had to come from somewhere. You had to eat it, since we don't absorb calories by osmosis. Either that or you're just not moving around enough to burn off what you eat. Both these things--eating too much or moving too little--are your own fault. They're a visible display of your own failure to manage your body. We accept this principle. We don't question personal responsibility when it comes to weight management.
The problem is, we never took the next step and asked what happens to the calories once they get into the body. We assumed--which is an oversight and makes us look stupid, honestly--that EVERY SINGLE BODY EVER uses calories in the exact same way, in the exact same proportions. If every body did, they it would clearly be a matter of personal fault and easy enough to correct. If you knew that 25% of your intake was going to be used for your brain, 25% would be used for muscles, 25% would be used for essential body functions, and the remaining 25% would be in circulation or fat storage until you ate again, it would be easy to tweak your intake so that you could dictate fat storage. The thing is, it doesn't work that way. That's the message we've all been sold over the last 40-ish years, but that oversimplifies the body and makes fools of us all.
So think about two women, Mary and Jane. Mary and Jane both earn $3,000 a month. Mary and Jane both own houses, and $1,000 a month goes toward their mortgages. This is their essential cost, the cost that must be paid. Mary, however, with her spendthrift ways, regularly spends money on nights out dancing, small weekend trips, books and videos, and new clothes and shoes. Other essential expenses like gas and car payments and insurance are paid, but Mary's primary expenditures are for entertainment. Sometimes there's a little bit left over at the end of the month, but never very much. She puts that away for a rainy day, but feels no qualms about dipping into that money when something new and exciting catches her eye.
Jane, on the other hand, worries about her money all the time. After she pays her mortgage and her essential expenses, she puts everything she can into a strict savings account across town that doesn't have easy access, so she has to go all the way across town to withdraw anything at all. Sometimes she needs new clothes or new shoes, and she plans carefully for these expenses. Her entertainment budget is zero: libraries are free, and they have movies, too. Jane's savings account is already substantial, and saving, for her, is reflexive now.
In the realm of the body, Mary is naturally thin. When she eats her body makes sure that her essential functions are supported, then spends the rest of her calories happily. Every single cell in Mary's body is open for business and eagerly changes those calories into energy. Mary doesn't really notice this because it's just the way she is, but she moves around more often, put more energy into her movements, and is warmer and more awake throughout the day. When she needs more energy for something she takes it right out of her fat stores--that's what it's there for, right?
Jane got the other end of the stick. Her body is heavier and slower. She has generous stores of fat, and yet this stored energy doesn't seem to translate to regular daily energy. She is slower with her movements, and tends to unconsciously shorten them or make them easier. Her hands and feet are always cold, and she always feels just a little bit sleepy. Jane's body likes to store calories for future use, even though she eats the same amount as Mary. Jane also drags herself on a morning walk with her dog every day, but her body is not thin. She burns the same amount of calories in a day at Mary, but her body is not thin like Mary's. Jane's body will make her "entertainment" budget as small as possible, and withdraw from her fat savings on a miserly basis.
This is called nutrient partitioning, and it's gotten little to no consideration in the realm of diet and exercise. Nutrient partitioning, easily, is how your body spends the calories you give it. Some peoples' bodies spend every calorie and save very little. Some peoples' bodies save before they pay any expenses. There has been little discussion of this. We're always told to "eat less and exercise more", as if we've never heard of math and can't understand the simple concepts of addition and subtraction. Being overweight is a failing of intellect, in addition to a failing of character.
And yet...I am not stupid and I am conscientious. But this is what I have consistently experienced in my own body. I have pages and pages of records over the years. I faithfully wrote down all my meals. I laboriously weighed and measured--to the gram--all my foods. I did the math over and over, trying desperately to figure out how many calories I needed and how many I could eat, how it was possible that I was eating X number of calories and exercising for Y minutes and walking at least 5 miles a day and being on my feet all day and still gaining weight. I played with my macronutrient ratios. I also listened to prevailing health and diet "experts", and failed to see the obvious: the higher my carbohydrate intake, the higher my weight and the wider the gap between what I knew I was consuming and the results I expected from the straight math.
Bodies are not simple machines, people. Calories aren't just calories. What your body does with those calories once you digest them is what matters. That's the principle of diet theory that everyone is missing. Everyone got hung up on the first step--you can't create something from nothing so you must be eating the calories you're storing--and missed the obvious second step: bodies are different, and they're not going to use the same number of calories in the same way.
The question becomes, then, what is happening once those calories are ingested? How do we affect how individual bodies use calories? How do we encourage "saver" bodies to spend freely?
And it is entirely validating of my own experience of my body.
The concept of weight loss and weight "management" is built around a principle of physics called the conservation of energy--simply, you can't make something from nothing, so the fat on your body had to come from somewhere. You had to eat it, since we don't absorb calories by osmosis. Either that or you're just not moving around enough to burn off what you eat. Both these things--eating too much or moving too little--are your own fault. They're a visible display of your own failure to manage your body. We accept this principle. We don't question personal responsibility when it comes to weight management.
The problem is, we never took the next step and asked what happens to the calories once they get into the body. We assumed--which is an oversight and makes us look stupid, honestly--that EVERY SINGLE BODY EVER uses calories in the exact same way, in the exact same proportions. If every body did, they it would clearly be a matter of personal fault and easy enough to correct. If you knew that 25% of your intake was going to be used for your brain, 25% would be used for muscles, 25% would be used for essential body functions, and the remaining 25% would be in circulation or fat storage until you ate again, it would be easy to tweak your intake so that you could dictate fat storage. The thing is, it doesn't work that way. That's the message we've all been sold over the last 40-ish years, but that oversimplifies the body and makes fools of us all.
So think about two women, Mary and Jane. Mary and Jane both earn $3,000 a month. Mary and Jane both own houses, and $1,000 a month goes toward their mortgages. This is their essential cost, the cost that must be paid. Mary, however, with her spendthrift ways, regularly spends money on nights out dancing, small weekend trips, books and videos, and new clothes and shoes. Other essential expenses like gas and car payments and insurance are paid, but Mary's primary expenditures are for entertainment. Sometimes there's a little bit left over at the end of the month, but never very much. She puts that away for a rainy day, but feels no qualms about dipping into that money when something new and exciting catches her eye.
Jane, on the other hand, worries about her money all the time. After she pays her mortgage and her essential expenses, she puts everything she can into a strict savings account across town that doesn't have easy access, so she has to go all the way across town to withdraw anything at all. Sometimes she needs new clothes or new shoes, and she plans carefully for these expenses. Her entertainment budget is zero: libraries are free, and they have movies, too. Jane's savings account is already substantial, and saving, for her, is reflexive now.
In the realm of the body, Mary is naturally thin. When she eats her body makes sure that her essential functions are supported, then spends the rest of her calories happily. Every single cell in Mary's body is open for business and eagerly changes those calories into energy. Mary doesn't really notice this because it's just the way she is, but she moves around more often, put more energy into her movements, and is warmer and more awake throughout the day. When she needs more energy for something she takes it right out of her fat stores--that's what it's there for, right?
Jane got the other end of the stick. Her body is heavier and slower. She has generous stores of fat, and yet this stored energy doesn't seem to translate to regular daily energy. She is slower with her movements, and tends to unconsciously shorten them or make them easier. Her hands and feet are always cold, and she always feels just a little bit sleepy. Jane's body likes to store calories for future use, even though she eats the same amount as Mary. Jane also drags herself on a morning walk with her dog every day, but her body is not thin. She burns the same amount of calories in a day at Mary, but her body is not thin like Mary's. Jane's body will make her "entertainment" budget as small as possible, and withdraw from her fat savings on a miserly basis.
This is called nutrient partitioning, and it's gotten little to no consideration in the realm of diet and exercise. Nutrient partitioning, easily, is how your body spends the calories you give it. Some peoples' bodies spend every calorie and save very little. Some peoples' bodies save before they pay any expenses. There has been little discussion of this. We're always told to "eat less and exercise more", as if we've never heard of math and can't understand the simple concepts of addition and subtraction. Being overweight is a failing of intellect, in addition to a failing of character.
And yet...I am not stupid and I am conscientious. But this is what I have consistently experienced in my own body. I have pages and pages of records over the years. I faithfully wrote down all my meals. I laboriously weighed and measured--to the gram--all my foods. I did the math over and over, trying desperately to figure out how many calories I needed and how many I could eat, how it was possible that I was eating X number of calories and exercising for Y minutes and walking at least 5 miles a day and being on my feet all day and still gaining weight. I played with my macronutrient ratios. I also listened to prevailing health and diet "experts", and failed to see the obvious: the higher my carbohydrate intake, the higher my weight and the wider the gap between what I knew I was consuming and the results I expected from the straight math.
Bodies are not simple machines, people. Calories aren't just calories. What your body does with those calories once you digest them is what matters. That's the principle of diet theory that everyone is missing. Everyone got hung up on the first step--you can't create something from nothing so you must be eating the calories you're storing--and missed the obvious second step: bodies are different, and they're not going to use the same number of calories in the same way.
The question becomes, then, what is happening once those calories are ingested? How do we affect how individual bodies use calories? How do we encourage "saver" bodies to spend freely?
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Onward, ho!
I have righted myself. It wasn't through any trick or any moment of clarity or any sudden realization. I just kept doing what I have been doing for the last 3.5 months, and held to my habits. The habits are the thing, I swear. I kept making my breakfast the night before so I'd have protein after morning WODs. I kept packing lunch the night before--sometimes using a chunk of free time to cook a couple of meals in advance--so I'd always have a good, safe lunch available. I automatically did my laundry and sorted it out into complete sets of gym clothes, so that when I woke up around 4:45 there was no desperate rushing to find necessary pieces. I just kept doing my new habits. I didn't let myself think about it too much. I didn't let myself think of alternatives. I just got on and did it.
And I Am on track. I am eating my veggies and my protein. I have repetitive meals, this is true, but honestly I just need protein and veggies. I don't need food to fulfill me. I don't need food to reward me. I don't need food to lend interest or satisfaction to my life. Food is necessary, yes, and there's no way I'm going to force myself to eat foods that I don't enjoy. But I'm not going to use food as anything else but fuel.
That's another phrase I never really understood. I knew what it meant on an intellectual level, even down to being able to explain about glucose and amino acids and essential fats and insulin and glycogen and leptin and mitochondria and all that gorgeous symphony that is the gastrointestinal tract. But intellect has never translated to a gut-level comprehension, to the ability to not ascribe other duties to what is, essentially, a way for the world to transfer energy to us.
Food is fuel, and that's all it is. I get it now.
And I Am on track. I am eating my veggies and my protein. I have repetitive meals, this is true, but honestly I just need protein and veggies. I don't need food to fulfill me. I don't need food to reward me. I don't need food to lend interest or satisfaction to my life. Food is necessary, yes, and there's no way I'm going to force myself to eat foods that I don't enjoy. But I'm not going to use food as anything else but fuel.
That's another phrase I never really understood. I knew what it meant on an intellectual level, even down to being able to explain about glucose and amino acids and essential fats and insulin and glycogen and leptin and mitochondria and all that gorgeous symphony that is the gastrointestinal tract. But intellect has never translated to a gut-level comprehension, to the ability to not ascribe other duties to what is, essentially, a way for the world to transfer energy to us.
Food is fuel, and that's all it is. I get it now.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Struggling
Ahh, brave last words spoken yesterday.
I am going through some difficult emotional things that came to a bit of a head in the last couple of days. I've been working very hard with Dr. Matt to dismantle and disarm them, and build in healthier responses. But when these emotional things happen my first instinct is still to stuff them down, strangle them with food. The muscles for coping and facing instead of just running away are still new.
Yesterday I ate potato chips for lunch. I found a brand that wasn't full of crap, basically potatoes and salt and oil. But the fact remains that I had potato chips for lunch. So it was still Whole30 with regard to the ingredients, but certainly not in spirit. So gray area. At dinner I desperately wanted to skip it. I really needed to skip the meal as an expression of control. I know that's one of my behaviors, though, that I'm trying very hard to break. So I made myself eat something. I managed only a banana and almond butter, but I did it. Then I went to bed.
This morning when I woke up I was hungry, obviously, but more than hungry I'm emotionally raw. I really, really want to "cut and run".
My dad was in the military. He was high ranking on submarines--already a rare bird--during the Cold War. We went where they needed him. By the time I was in the third grade I'd been in 5 different schools. Counting colleges, which was my own doing since I put myself through, I went to 12 different schools. This means 12 different groups of friends (although in all honesty I've never really had "groups" of friends. I've had one or two at a time). I've lived in 8 different states and one different country. Starting very very young I learned how to "rip it out": cut all attachments and walk away. I'm really bad at forming close attachments. I just don't know how. I am interested in people and I'm curious, and I make friends quickly and easily. But I keep people at arm's distance, and when I walk away I walk away cleanly. Ghosts don't follow me.
What that all means is that my primary form of dealing with emotional struggles and difficult relationships is to stuff it down as long as I can, and then when it gets unbearable to just to walk away. Deep in my brain there's a bitter belief: "Everything ends, it's just a matter of when." I'm trying to learn not to do that. I'm trying to learn other ways of coping.
So this morning when I woke up I was hungry. I was--am--also emotional and touchy. I immediately started thinking of where might be open. Mmmm, pancakes the size of the plate. Butter and syrup, oh my! Fried potatoes and eggs with milk and cinnamon rolls and cream and croissants and doughnuts and and...hysteria. It's Thanksgiving Day, though, so I can be thankful that no place is open.
But then I realized that I had to go to the store. I needed almond milk for my tea. I made a list, told my best friend what I was going to buy, and allowed myself to get only almond milk, bananas, parsnips, and carrots. Then I got out of there.
Back home I heated up some sausages while my water boiled, then I had tea, sausages, and two kiwi. The banana is next to me but I don't want it. I've eaten good food and I'm not hungry anymore. I've wobbled, certainly, but I righted myself and I'm back on course. This is good. This is something to be thankful for.
I am going through some difficult emotional things that came to a bit of a head in the last couple of days. I've been working very hard with Dr. Matt to dismantle and disarm them, and build in healthier responses. But when these emotional things happen my first instinct is still to stuff them down, strangle them with food. The muscles for coping and facing instead of just running away are still new.
Yesterday I ate potato chips for lunch. I found a brand that wasn't full of crap, basically potatoes and salt and oil. But the fact remains that I had potato chips for lunch. So it was still Whole30 with regard to the ingredients, but certainly not in spirit. So gray area. At dinner I desperately wanted to skip it. I really needed to skip the meal as an expression of control. I know that's one of my behaviors, though, that I'm trying very hard to break. So I made myself eat something. I managed only a banana and almond butter, but I did it. Then I went to bed.
This morning when I woke up I was hungry, obviously, but more than hungry I'm emotionally raw. I really, really want to "cut and run".
My dad was in the military. He was high ranking on submarines--already a rare bird--during the Cold War. We went where they needed him. By the time I was in the third grade I'd been in 5 different schools. Counting colleges, which was my own doing since I put myself through, I went to 12 different schools. This means 12 different groups of friends (although in all honesty I've never really had "groups" of friends. I've had one or two at a time). I've lived in 8 different states and one different country. Starting very very young I learned how to "rip it out": cut all attachments and walk away. I'm really bad at forming close attachments. I just don't know how. I am interested in people and I'm curious, and I make friends quickly and easily. But I keep people at arm's distance, and when I walk away I walk away cleanly. Ghosts don't follow me.
What that all means is that my primary form of dealing with emotional struggles and difficult relationships is to stuff it down as long as I can, and then when it gets unbearable to just to walk away. Deep in my brain there's a bitter belief: "Everything ends, it's just a matter of when." I'm trying to learn not to do that. I'm trying to learn other ways of coping.
So this morning when I woke up I was hungry. I was--am--also emotional and touchy. I immediately started thinking of where might be open. Mmmm, pancakes the size of the plate. Butter and syrup, oh my! Fried potatoes and eggs with milk and cinnamon rolls and cream and croissants and doughnuts and and...hysteria. It's Thanksgiving Day, though, so I can be thankful that no place is open.
But then I realized that I had to go to the store. I needed almond milk for my tea. I made a list, told my best friend what I was going to buy, and allowed myself to get only almond milk, bananas, parsnips, and carrots. Then I got out of there.
Back home I heated up some sausages while my water boiled, then I had tea, sausages, and two kiwi. The banana is next to me but I don't want it. I've eaten good food and I'm not hungry anymore. I've wobbled, certainly, but I righted myself and I'm back on course. This is good. This is something to be thankful for.
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