Unlikely motivation

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 2, 2011 . 3:01AM

As I came down the stairs, I could hear Sophie’s feet pad the floor as she “danced” in circles. She does this when she’s excited and it had been a more recent occurrence this week, more so than other weeks in the past because she’s had good reason to be happy. My dogs get plenty of exercise and trust me when I say that these little beasties jail-break my back fence on a regular basis. Sophie, in particular, is guilty of this, though, luckily, they confine their breaks to mainly the next-door neighbor’s backyard where they happily yap at the neighbor’s dog who barks mournfully back at them from his enclosed patio.

Lately, though, the weather has been nice and I have made the decision to be a more active person. As such, I have been making it a priority to find reasons to move my body. This benefits Sophie in that she sees me suit up in the sloppiest mom-gear you’ve ever seen, complete with ridiculous slouchy cap, push my headphones into my cell phone and slink out the door like I’m heading off to prison for the day.

Not Sophie, however. The minute I come day those stairs, it is on like Donkey Kong. So, this day, I could hear her start her own routine and I smiled.

I hit the bottom step and her little toenails began to click across the floor towards the door where her harness and leash hang. Water dribbled down my chin as I attempted to hydrate myself while not choking on the scent of the most obnoxious sunscreen ever and I watched her eyes dilate much the same way those of an addict do when they get a fix. Sophie jumped on the couch and begin to whine and do circles, which is her way of telling me, “C’mon, C’mon, let’s go.” As I placed her harness over her head, she gently lifted her paw through the harness on her own to hurry the process. I laughed and turned on the programs that I use on my cell phone that track my progress and give me tunes to listen to while I walk. During this short 15 seconds I thought her little head might explode as she pulled me towards the door. The other dogs looked at us with reproach.

We were met with a cloudy day as Sophie did her dancing circles down the steps to let me know how excited she was to be going on her walk. When I say she turned to me and smiled with a full set of teeth, I’m not exaggerating. She’s started doing this for the entire first two blocks of our walk until she starts to sweat and her tongue lolls out of her mouth and she realizes that walking is work. While I fiddled with my phone and walked uphill and downhill and all over the place, my dog did doggie things. She stared at the blue sky. She sniffed at birds who were bathing in puddles, but left them alone. She considered all forms of anything on the ground leftovers that she could potentially eat unless I caught her in time. This included worms, dead birds and bird poop. Other dogs were cheerfully greeted with a growl and then a playful yap and then promptly ignored. Squirrels, however…

Squirrels were to be chased with reckless abandon. By this I mean that squirrels were to be chased regardless of how hard I tugged and pulled on the leash and if that meant I fell on my backside because Sophie has twisted it around my body, then so be it. Squirrels were the enemy.

Also to be chased were men with their shirts off. Clearly, to dogs, this is a symbol of some form of aggression that will not stand. I had no idea this was the case until Sophie began to chase a half-clothed man and refused to stop until I almost fell into a street full of traffic and I screamed at her. This caused the half-clothed man to look at me like I was the one with the problem and to run even faster in the opposite direction. Sophie merely gave me her doggy grin and trotted back to me as if nothing happened.

Towards the end of our walk, we headed down the path toward home and Sophie cheerfully barked her recognition that we were near. This is the same dog that almost had a coronary that I wouldn’t take her on her walk quickly enough. As we edged toward our mailbox, she looked back at me and smiled her doggy smile. We were home and tomorrow would bring another walk.

There will always be squirrels out there that need to be taught a lesson.

Are you done with politics?

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . November 3, 2010 . 12:48AM

Tonight has been a night full of election coverage and, while I’ve spent hours upon hours watching I realized…I’m bored. What better time, then, to update my blog as well as focus on something that is relatively within my control and something else that people hate to hear about: exercise?

So, about a month ago, something in me just changed. I can’t describe it because one day it was different than it has been. Generally, I get into a fit about how I look and decide “this is it, I’ve had it” and decide to go to the gym. It works out for a couple of weeks and then I’m back to couch surfing for a bit. Last year, as well as the year before, I’d done really well and lost quite a bit of weight. Ultimately, I’ve been quite happy about my looks. October, though, is the month of self-reflection for me and has been for the last few years. I tend to hermit myself away, avoid contact with people and focus on what is going on with my immediate needs and those of the people in my household. It gives me time to grieve my losses, work on my schoolwork and decide what needs to be changed. It’s not easy on my friends, though, because I ultimately tend to close myself off from them. It’s not the best coping strategy and it only works for me because of my introverted nature.

During my “month of internal reflection” something changed inside of me. I was thinking about some of my long-term goals after graduation and realized that where I am is in no way conducive to where I want to be in a year and a half. I may be happy with my body and healthy, for the most part regardless of societal standards, but if I want to pick up the martial arts and the dance lessons and all those things that I have in my future, I need to make changes. Unfortunately, this “click” happened in the month of apathy. The month where I do nothing. The month where I’m essentially in hiding. What was I supposed to do?

I stayed in hiding with the exception of making some changes. I met with my trainer and we set up a plan. I have daily goals and most days I actually do them. My goal was to hit the gym seven days a week. I’m hitting it 4-5. I used to have trouble walking from the parking lot on campus to my building. I’m now doing either 45 minutes of cardio or weights and cardio every day (mostly).

I’ve noticed that I have some weird quirks. If you don’t wipe down your machine, I’m going to give you a nasty look until you notice how I’m looking at you; this is especially true if I’m the next person who needs that machine on my circuit. If the pulse meter isn’t working on a machine I’m going to be grumpy and need Lady Gaga. This is not optional. Slow songs will slow my pulse. Therefore, yes, I like to listen to Britney Spears while I workout and don’t think for one second I don’t know that the people around me are listening to her, too. If I can see a woman’s sports bra or it’s clear she’s showing off the goodies, I’m judging her. Same goes for the boys. There is no reason your clothes should ever be that tight. Let your body breathe.

Ultimately, my change in behavior and thinking is changing A.J.’s, too. He’s started to talk about better nutrition and taken to swimming and running more frequently. He was disappointed in chicken nuggets the other night and thought that he “should have had the grilled chicken.” He’s starting to make better choices and guzzling water like a hummer drinking down the gas. For a child who would live on McDonald’s if I allowed it, these changes are not small things. When I took Sophie on a walk yesterday (my day off of the gym), he wanted to come walk with us. When I noted that he couldn’t keep up, he was personally offended.

Next time, I’ll let him come.

There are little things that I’m noticing about myself that are changing, too, besides the easy weight loss. There is the pride when I do the small increases in weight/tension on my weights. The happiness when I don’t feel like I’m dying on the elliptical. The smiles when I realize that I’m going longer and longer without needing the water during my exercise routine. The disbelief when I note that I’ve listened to my Zune player through almost a whole song and not noted that my side hurts or I’m walking or anything beyond the lyrics to the song going through my head. Lastly, the exhilaration when I push through a particularly difficult weight routine (overhead press!) and those last 3 reps don’t overcome me. I overcome them.

I am thanking God every day for Panera, Chick-fil-a and Subway because they make eating healthfully easy. I stock up on them when I’m in a hurry and on my fruits to keep on hand at home and lots of salads and I am always good to go.

Mainly, though, the change that I’m seeing is that I’m focused on the future.

See you later, sad October. Here comes November. For all of us.

Stairmaster, you elusive mistress

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 9, 2009 . 8:33PM

For a while now, I’ve been working on my fitness and thus far, it’s been a productive measure. I feel things toning and fat is burning and unpleasant things are happening to my body that I’ve been reassured are GREAT! Those unpleasant things mean that what I’m doing is working! Woot!

Last week, I was on the phone with my trainer and he scolded me. This is becoming commonplace. I need a little scolding now and then because, quite frankly, I’m bad. I have horns. Don’t be surprised when I do bad things. I’m not good. So, yes, sometimes I get scolded.

The reason for the scolding this time was that I’d become comfortable with the evil, wretched treadmill and the *heavens open up and light shines down* amazing, wonderful, beautiful elliptical machine. I was alternating them and frankly, my dear, it wasn’t enough. I needed variety. [insert scolding and I told you's here]

My response was “Yeah, yeah, yeah but stairs scare me! When I climb the stairs at school I end them in the fetal position and rocking.”

My trainer, Mike, was not impressed, yelled some more, and told me to get my butt on the stairmaster.

Whatever.

So I have thrown in it the mix.

It’s going to kill me yet.

When I’m on the stairmaster, I don’t get the nice feelings or the high that I get on the elliptical or the numbing, dulling zone out of the treadmill. I get the tired legs and the “you’re going to die mwahahahahah” of the stairmaster. I admit: I want to give up. Here’s how I don’t: I make up elaborate fantasies and schemes as to what will happen if I can complete my 25 minute stairmaster rotation.

“If I can just get through the next 10 minutes I can have that condo in downtown Nashville that I want! Floor to ceiling windows, baby. Decorate it any way I want it and my drive to both work and school is down to 10 minutes. Boo-yah!”

“If I can just get through the next 20 minutes, the minute I step off this stairmaster, a swarthy pirate named Hugh Jackman is going to come out the bathroom, growl, “MMM, I always liked ‘em chubby” and throw me over his shoulder while I meekly say, “Help. I’m being abducted.” Then he will buy me my condo in Nashville.”

Wait. What were we talking about? Oh, the stairmaster. See? That’s how I get through it. Man, I love me a pirate.

You haven’t conquered me yet, stairmaster. Hugh and I are going to get through this. We always do.