Workout, Eat, Navel-Gazing (which could be the "pray" part)

I attended my second BodyFit class on Sunday morning. I am familiar with the instructor from previous Sunday mornings on the treadmill, when I had to turn up my Fire Kindling to drown out the sound of her growling and gnashing and ululating enthusiasm. "That lady," I thought to myself, "is a freaking nut."

But as a person who needs guidance in the world of strength building, I am glad she was there to growl and gnash and ululate on my behalf. It was encouraging when I was doing three-count tricep curls with a bar that I could do it (according to her) and wouldn't die on her watch, regardless of how much sweat was pouring down my scalp (implied... I think). I'm not hurting as much as I did after the first class, but that seemed to come on gradually.

I also attended a yoga class at LadyGym on Saturday morning. I think I'll stick to going over to Bloom Studio  if the yoga bug strikes. While I'm certainly no yogii (yogurt?), the class at LadyGym seems to be a little too slowly paced and gentle for my goals/needs. I want all the granola-sprinkled breathing-and-self-realization-positivist malarkey*, but I also want to know I'm making my muscles work.

*Positivist thought and breathing really aren't malarkey; if anyone's malarkey, I'm malarkey.

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On the food front, I've been using Pinterest to try and track down more fast-and-take-to-work friendly recipes, not only for work, but for my home, which has been microwave-free for nearly a year. So I made this curry tuna salad (Greek yogurt instead of mayo) and put it in a wrap instead of on spinach, then finished the schrapnel with pita crackers, and also made a big ol' Crock Pot full of quinoa chicken chili. So if anyone has any delightful suggestions as we transition out of chili weather, hopefully, and into spring, I'm all ears.

I also spent Saturday on a mini-Chicago restaurant feeding frenzy: Little Goat for lunch with friends as a thank you for playing airport chauffeur and Ethiopian Diamond for a traditional pre-St. Paddy's Day dinner. It was a significant cheat day, largely due to the half slice of blood orange meringue pie I consumed--no regrets, because it was heavenly and magical--but I made sure I went to the gym both Saturday and Sunday, despite a nearly last minute chickening out inclination about BodyFit, so I don't feel like my day of gluttony got the better of me.

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I'm closing in, slowly but surely, on a loss of 40 lbs overall. I had a moment or two last week where it didn't seem possible or logical that I'm where I'm at. My general line of logic around starting a diet in the past was to:

1. Recognize I was significantly overweight
2. Buy a bunch of lettuce
3. "Forget" my homemade salad lunch
4. Get Noodles and Company instead
5. Get McDonalds for dinner
6. Throw out wilted lettuce four days later
7. Give up

I have a pattern of this sort of short-sighted self-sabotage in several areas of my life. I let myself see the situation as impossible and frustrating, requiring too much effort and too much time. I've done it with job searches, my personal budgeting, and my self-care.

This time around, I can't tell you what's different. I mean, it seemed to start on a sort of whim, because a friend was enthusiastic about using the Lose It app. But after the inital adjustment period--you know, where your body is convinced it is trapped on a mountaintop in a South American country and that cannibalism isn't so morally reprehensible as you originally thought--I didn't feel overwhelmed. I didn't feel driven by the initial goal number I plugged into the app either. I guess somewhere in my subconscious, I decided to take it...

Don't worry, Kristen: I won't buy this at Amazon and add it to my running playlist :-)

Anyway, all jokey jokes aside, I'm enjoying and participating in the process more than I ever have before, even more than my first time around before my mom died. I am looking for structure and guidance and ways to measure and improve, and I want to talk about it allllllllll the time. I worry a lot that it makes me insufferable, but at the same time, I'm so super jazzed by what I've accomplished and what potential lies ahead-- my first 5K! maybe being brave enough to take Turbo Kick one day! progressing from 3.5 lb hand weights to 5 lbs! -- that I guess I'm willing to be a little insufferable to keep on moving forward.

Over Christmas, my Aunt Carol and I were discussing where I was at so far--I think I was down 20 lbs or so--and I mentioned I had been successfully working off weight before Mom's suicide, to which Aunt Carol said, "She was so proud of you for that." Which is true, I know, as hard as it is to acknowledge without second-guessing it, e.g., "Maybe if I had continued being an unhealthy mess, maybe she would have stuck around to take care of me." And it was so gratifying and touching to hear from my dad after I sent him a text about being halfway to goal (just because I like it so much: "I wish you the best. I was going to say good luck but it is not. It is hard work and determination. You have stuck with this program I am very proud of you. You should be too."). The reaction and acknowledgment by others is important to me, in spite of my awkward shyness about it all. But I think the thing Dad said at the very end of his text has been a critical difference this time around: I'm doing it primarily for myself. It's important to me to be focused and positive and acknowledge success as I'm in the middle of it. I feel like it makes me a more engaged overall citizen of the world (positivism!!!) and more likely to succeed at the other goals in my life, like taking the PHR certification test, going on my crazy trip to Iceland, continuing to find time to volunteer, and being a better friend and family member.

I've been thinking about Mom more lately. Not in any profound way... just thinking. I worry sometimes that when she committed suicide six years ago, I changed so much, so fast, so profoundly... I don't know, I worry that I'm not the person I was, or that I wouldn't know that person if I met her, and maybe she's the person with more potential, better ideas, braver and smarter. I also worry that if I give my grief too much power, let it drive my life choices or existence, I will stagnate, become sad, or sadder, and negative. And Mom really has nothing to do with a lot of that: I tended towards impatience and moodiness while she was alive. I'm snarky and intolerant of what I perceive to be condescension or mediocrity. And with missing my mom in constant competition with being very angry and very confused, I see the potential to become a grouch who holes up in her apartment with three cats, content to love guys on TV and visit friends when it suits me.

But all of the stuff about being sad or snarky or intolerant is only part of it, only part of me, and I know I choose how I go forward. I can be positive and honest and courageous and try just as often as I can be sad or frustrated (but probably not as often as I'm snarky, because let's be honest...). So I try, and if my instinct is to say "I give up," I let it be just a feeling and not some kind of overarching life philosophy. I try to miss my mom and remember good things without being a fibber and not recognizing the hard or sad things in their turn. I try to be honest, or at least be kind.

And if I lost the better version of me six years ago, time is linear. No use crying over spilled milk (I am the milk in that metaphor).

I try. In the end, I try. Every day, even just a little. That has to count as some kind of victory.