What's My Motivation?
TO GET OFF THE F$#@%*^! STAGE!!!!!
well, you crazy theater people get that joke.
ahem.
This post is only remotely about theater. I'm trying to get myself back into the healthy swing I was in last fall. Late last summer and in the early fall before it got dark too early and too cold, I was on a major walking kick. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, I'd toss on a t-shirt and work-out pants (or shorts if I was feeling particularly spunky), grab my walkman with the latest high-energy mix CD I'd created, and make the trip to the Metroparks to get some much-needed exercise, fresh air, and sunlight. Most of the time, I'd make this trip alone, and let the music drown out whatever thoughts were in my head. Or, if the thoughts were still louder than Eve 6 could ever hope to be, I'd turn it down and work it out. As I walked. And I'm not talking some Sunday stroll, nice easy pace. Anyone who knows Matt can attest to the fact that there is a very high probability that he's in better shape than I'm in, and I had him huffing and puffing at my pace. I book it. But then, the time change happened, and it got dark before I could really get a decent walk in, and I had to resort to walking on the treadmill. And I did pretty good, but part of the appeal was being outside, listening to the birds, the sound of the wind in the trees. Even with making a new work-out mix every few weeks, the treadmill wasn't enough to keep my interest. So I tried mixing it up, and got an aerobics DVD. I quickly learned that apartment living rooms are not conducive to kicks and grapevines. Then I got sick, and that was kinda the end of it. Once you get out of the routine, it's hard to get back into it.
That's where I've been for the last several months. On the couch, in my old pattern of going from being highly motivated to make a healthy change in my life to being fat and happy. Happens every winter. But I will say that 2005 was the longest stint of healthy motivation I've had in my life. So I'm trying it again. Last Tuesday, I got up off my ass, grabbed my walkman, threw on comfy clothes, and hit the treadmill. And not only the treadmill, but the weightroom. I spent nearly an hour. I don't know where it came from. I just got up. It was like Jane Fonda ordering Lazarus from the grave. Then I got my nasty cold, and I thought, "great, just when I found my motivation, here I am sick again. This is what helped to kill it last time." I fought back. As soon as I felt well enough (not 100%, but well enough), I got back on the treadmill. And again tonight. And the weightroom, too.
Wow. So what's my motivation, and how do I keep it from disappearing on me again?
Well, surprisingly enough, my brother's wedding, for starters. Pretty as I am (please note the subtle sarcasm behind my bold statement of self esteem), it's not your face everyone looks at in a formal gown. I've seen the bride. I've seen her twin sister. I'm certain that they couldn't fit their asses into a pair of my jeans, but I'll be damned if we didn't fit into the same damn formal dress. I nearly burst into tears in the store. 'Cause the maid of honor is fat. I've always considered myself chubby, but only rarely as fat. It was discouraging.
My mother. I am roughly the size my Mom was before she had kids. After she had kids, she never lost the baby weight, and she ended up a size 26. It took her years of being fat and unhappy, and a number of unsuccessful attempts at losing it until she found that Atkin's was her magic key, and now she's back to being my size.
Have you ever caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror and swore it was your Mom (or Dad) staring back at you? That happened to me this morning.
I've tried Atkin's, and found it to be nothing like magic. Me on Atkin's = cheating left and right.
I found myself waxing philosophical after my Transcendant Tuesday on the treadmill last week. I have been in the habit my whole life of talking about what I want, and not what I'm going to do. "I want to lose 30 pounds." "I want to look better." "I want a promotion." And that's been the end of the discussion. Wanting hasn't led to an equation of how to get it. It just leads to wanting for me. So I'm trying to retrain my brain on how I think. I'm going to spend at least 20 minutes on the treadmill on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I'm going to hit the weight room and get some muscle, even if there's someone else in there and I feel awkward. I'm going to keep an eye on what I eat, but I am not going on a diet. The word "diet" is a deathtrap. I'm going to keep taking the stairs at work.
Maybe this will work. I'm optimistic. Matt is fantastically supportive. He doesn't bug me when I fall off the wagon (which only discourages me and shames me, and has the exact opposite of motivation). He showers me in excited encouragement when I tell him I've done my hamster dance on the treadmill. He sincerely tells me I'm beautiful regardless of when the last time was that I threw on my walking shoes. He makes me believe him when he says he's not worried about my appearance, just my family's history of heart problems.
So that's where I'm at. I'll try and keep you posted, maybe that'll be motivation too. So where does the theater thing come into play, you ask? I'm tired of my tummy overshadowing my talent.
well, you crazy theater people get that joke.
ahem.
This post is only remotely about theater. I'm trying to get myself back into the healthy swing I was in last fall. Late last summer and in the early fall before it got dark too early and too cold, I was on a major walking kick. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, I'd toss on a t-shirt and work-out pants (or shorts if I was feeling particularly spunky), grab my walkman with the latest high-energy mix CD I'd created, and make the trip to the Metroparks to get some much-needed exercise, fresh air, and sunlight. Most of the time, I'd make this trip alone, and let the music drown out whatever thoughts were in my head. Or, if the thoughts were still louder than Eve 6 could ever hope to be, I'd turn it down and work it out. As I walked. And I'm not talking some Sunday stroll, nice easy pace. Anyone who knows Matt can attest to the fact that there is a very high probability that he's in better shape than I'm in, and I had him huffing and puffing at my pace. I book it. But then, the time change happened, and it got dark before I could really get a decent walk in, and I had to resort to walking on the treadmill. And I did pretty good, but part of the appeal was being outside, listening to the birds, the sound of the wind in the trees. Even with making a new work-out mix every few weeks, the treadmill wasn't enough to keep my interest. So I tried mixing it up, and got an aerobics DVD. I quickly learned that apartment living rooms are not conducive to kicks and grapevines. Then I got sick, and that was kinda the end of it. Once you get out of the routine, it's hard to get back into it.
That's where I've been for the last several months. On the couch, in my old pattern of going from being highly motivated to make a healthy change in my life to being fat and happy. Happens every winter. But I will say that 2005 was the longest stint of healthy motivation I've had in my life. So I'm trying it again. Last Tuesday, I got up off my ass, grabbed my walkman, threw on comfy clothes, and hit the treadmill. And not only the treadmill, but the weightroom. I spent nearly an hour. I don't know where it came from. I just got up. It was like Jane Fonda ordering Lazarus from the grave. Then I got my nasty cold, and I thought, "great, just when I found my motivation, here I am sick again. This is what helped to kill it last time." I fought back. As soon as I felt well enough (not 100%, but well enough), I got back on the treadmill. And again tonight. And the weightroom, too.
Wow. So what's my motivation, and how do I keep it from disappearing on me again?
Well, surprisingly enough, my brother's wedding, for starters. Pretty as I am (please note the subtle sarcasm behind my bold statement of self esteem), it's not your face everyone looks at in a formal gown. I've seen the bride. I've seen her twin sister. I'm certain that they couldn't fit their asses into a pair of my jeans, but I'll be damned if we didn't fit into the same damn formal dress. I nearly burst into tears in the store. 'Cause the maid of honor is fat. I've always considered myself chubby, but only rarely as fat. It was discouraging.
My mother. I am roughly the size my Mom was before she had kids. After she had kids, she never lost the baby weight, and she ended up a size 26. It took her years of being fat and unhappy, and a number of unsuccessful attempts at losing it until she found that Atkin's was her magic key, and now she's back to being my size.
Have you ever caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror and swore it was your Mom (or Dad) staring back at you? That happened to me this morning.
I've tried Atkin's, and found it to be nothing like magic. Me on Atkin's = cheating left and right.
I found myself waxing philosophical after my Transcendant Tuesday on the treadmill last week. I have been in the habit my whole life of talking about what I want, and not what I'm going to do. "I want to lose 30 pounds." "I want to look better." "I want a promotion." And that's been the end of the discussion. Wanting hasn't led to an equation of how to get it. It just leads to wanting for me. So I'm trying to retrain my brain on how I think. I'm going to spend at least 20 minutes on the treadmill on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I'm going to hit the weight room and get some muscle, even if there's someone else in there and I feel awkward. I'm going to keep an eye on what I eat, but I am not going on a diet. The word "diet" is a deathtrap. I'm going to keep taking the stairs at work.
Maybe this will work. I'm optimistic. Matt is fantastically supportive. He doesn't bug me when I fall off the wagon (which only discourages me and shames me, and has the exact opposite of motivation). He showers me in excited encouragement when I tell him I've done my hamster dance on the treadmill. He sincerely tells me I'm beautiful regardless of when the last time was that I threw on my walking shoes. He makes me believe him when he says he's not worried about my appearance, just my family's history of heart problems.
So that's where I'm at. I'll try and keep you posted, maybe that'll be motivation too. So where does the theater thing come into play, you ask? I'm tired of my tummy overshadowing my talent.
posted by Becki | 7:47 PM
1 Comments:
Pretty as I am (please note the subtle sarcasm behind my bold statement of self esteem)
I know at least two readers of this blog who would gladly remove the sarcasm from that statement. :) But yeah, good on yer for seeing the big picture. I know far too many people who see exercise merely as an appearance thing so they can flaunt around their toned and tanned bodies, because they have nothing to do with it but show it off (oh sure, they'll claim it's about health, but how many guys look at Pam Anderson and say "Hot damn, look at the low blood pressure on that one!"). Rather than vanity, you're seeing it both from the health aspect and as well as a means to an end: more roles on stage. Yay.
I started lifting free weights last week because I'm tired of being so damn weak. I'm rather happy with my current appearance, out of shape as I may be, probably because I developed a complex during my near-anorexic days of junior high school and now have a slightly warped view of fat. But fat does not equal muscle, and I have pathetically little strength, so for me it's simply about ability rather than looks.
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