May 19 - Alone

Lately on our walks we've started out together, but I want to go farther and faster,
so each of us ends up walking alone. As we did yesterday. I did six, he did four,
practically the same total time. He got home just a couple minutes before I did.

New challenge. And a dose of gratitude.

So I managed to walk/jog/run 130 miles in July, which helped me hit that 700-mile mark for the year. What better way to celebrate August than to go for 150? That's only 4.838 miles a day – let's just call it five, shall we?

We'll be going on a short trip later in the month, but I'm pretty sure we'll be able to manage a couple fitness walks among the other touristy walking we plan to do. If I throw a couple six-milers in each week, that should take care of an unplanned rest day.

But since I'm streaking (18 straight days so far), I'm not planning on having any unplanned rest days, either.

I was sitting somewhere yesterday – can't remember if it was in the car or in a chair – and felt a little itchy right between my shoulder blades. So I scratched that spot, and then realized that was something I didn't used to be able to do. It had more to do with shoulder pain than mobility, but 40 pounds ago I had to ask for help. 

When I get down to brass tacks, I think not wanting to ask for help – not wanting to need help – pushed me to try Whole30. I seriously did not want Velcro sneakers, but I was seriously having trouble lacing up my Brooks Adrenalines.

Like most women my age (62), I'd like to look as young as possible for as long as possible. I've been blessed with youthful genes. Most people are surprised to learn I'm in my 60s. But more than not looking my age, I don't want to feel my age. Here in southern West Virginia, 60-year-olds use walkers and ride scooter chairs in the grocery. They tote portable oxygen tanks with them wherever they go.

Some of the health problems in the aging population here are due to work conditions. Retired miners have lung problems, and retired loggers have been injured on the job. But far more age-related health issues are due to lifestyle.

West Virginia's obesity rate is third in the country, behind Louisiana and Mississippi. Thanks in part to the pepperoni roll. The  gooey, doughy, cheesy West Virginia concoction came out on top this year in a national competition of favorite state snack foods. (Our local Amish neighbors have learned how to make them; only glazed donuts are a bigger seller at the bakery.)

West Virginians smoke. A lot (we're 9th in the country).

It's difficult for the average Joe or Jane to get out and walk, particularly in hilly, rural areas which don't have sidewalks and do have one-lane roads. 

My mother, her mother and my father were very good examples of how I don't want to age. All were obese, all smoked, all died due in large part to health conditions which could have been prevented.

I'm glad I've finally found a way to get and stay fit and active.

Oh, and to scratch my own back, too.

Could you please pass the bacon? And eggs?

So the results of my recent bloodwork came back, and I'm amazingly healthy. I was not worried, exactly, but was very curious to see what six weeks of bacon-and-egg breakfasts would do to my cholesterol levels, which were approaching abnormal levels last fall. In a nutshell:

• Total cholesterol: 147, down from 189 (normal is 50-200)
• HDL (the good stuff): 51, down from 65 (normal is 50-150)
• LDL (the bad stuff): 86.6, down from 110.2 (normal is 0-130)
• Triglycerides: 47, down from 69 (normal is 50-150)

So, yay, me! Any plan that has me losing weight and lowering my cholesterol while eating bacon and eggs is okay by me.

(I realize the HDL should be going up, not down, but it's still b-a-r-e-l-y within normal limits, and I am therefore sticking my fingers in my ears and going 'lalalalalala.')

I truly think moving one's ass affects the movement of those numbers more than what's on the menu. And I have been committed to moving my ass this year.

All the other major and minor indicators came back normal, normal, normal, as well. I'm not sure I'm going to keep that doctor's appointment I made for Monday. While my insurance does pay for one well-woman visit per year, and it's been three years since I've seen my doctor, the only real issue I have to talk about is those sporadic dizzy spells. I'll consult my in-house physician about this and cancel (or not) tomorrow.

Your comments yesterday made my day! Thank you all for your continued encouragement. It just feels So. Damned. Good. to be doing something different and actually seeing results. Heck, I might even add some HIIT to my schedule. Maybe. Sunday's New York Times Magazine had an article about the effectiveness of it, along with the following graphic for a suggested routine which can be done in seven minutes. (No, not that seven minutes.)

My front porch step is a better height and probably safer for me than a chair for the step-up move, and my fireplace hearth works well for tricep dips. In both exercises, I think it's better to use an immoveable object rather than a chair, which could slip or tip over. I seriously doubt if I can do the last two moves – the push-up and rotation and the side plank. That said, I can see myself doing the first 10 moves two or three times a week once I lose a little more weight.

Being obese seriously limits one's ability to move. I'm finding it easier to do some things which had been beginning to concern me. For instance, while I hadn't actually shopped for Velcro sneakers, I was starting to appreciate the concept. I can almost … a-l-m-o-s-t … see myself running again, just for the fun of it.

What else ... something has gotten into the garden already, and I have to start over with kale and cabbage. Grrr. The recent rains prevented me from planting too much, so it's not a big deal. I need to take a couple days and just concentrate on tilling and plowing and mulching, oh my. (Days have been hard to come by lately.) Right now I'm an allium gardener – the only things thriving are chives, onions and garlic. The asparagus is done (SOB!); we ate the last of it last night.

Two of the apple trees are loaded with fruit; the third (the Honeycrisp, sadly) remains barren. But with any luck we'll have a crop o'Granny Smiths and Yellow Transparents this year. The branches will break if all the fruit ripens, so I have some major thinning to do.

I guess major thinning has been the topic du jour for the last few weeks around here. I thank you for your indulgence and support. One of these days I might actually pick up a knitting needle again. With all the grocery shopping I've been doing, I could use another one of these.

Progress, not perfection

So how am I going to measure my progress as I move forward in the current pursuit of health and wellness? (Oh, okay, and weight loss.) Well, this is the hard part.

The bathroom scale provides information, but all too often the number I see is all tied up with judgment and guilt and shame. Sometimes the number is 'good,' and I feel like I deserve a reward. Sometimes it's 'bad,' and I feel like giving up. In either case – good or bad – I go off the rails. This is not, of course, the fault of the bathroom scale. It's completely my attitude upon seeing that number.

Knowing what I know about my relationship with it, then, I clearly need to find a different way to measure progress. At the same time, I'd like to know what that number is. But only occasionally. (Okay, I'd really like to know what it is two or three times a day. But that's counterintuitive to the process.)

So here's the deal: I'm going to weigh myself on the 25th of each month. I weighed myself Christmas Day and right that minute started figuring out what my plan was going to be, in spite of Christmas dinner. I began tracking my food and exercise on the 26th. My daily goals are pretty simple:

Nutrition:

• 1598 calories/day (according to LoseIt! I should lose a pound a week at this level. I'd originally thought to keep calories at 1500, but I'm going to try 1600-ish the first month)
• Limit (but don't eliminate) sugar. I can't knock it out completely, but I can save it for Mondays (see below)
• Drink more water. I don't know if the old rule of six to eight glasses a day is still necessary, but I get way less than that. And, like chicken soup in a car wreck, it can't hurt. Right?

Activity:

• Monday - Free day (no intentional exercise, eat whatever, don't log anything)
• Tuesday - Walk outdoors or elliptical, yoga
• Wednesday - Walk outdoors or elliptical, dumbbells
• Thursday - Walk outdoors or elliptical
• Friday - Walk outdoors or elliptical, yoga
• Saturday - Walk outdoors or elliptical, dumbbells
• Sunday - Walk outdoors or elliptical

I will measure my progress between weigh-ins by noting whether I've completed each day successfully or not. Have I eaten at or below 1600-ish calories? Have I done the workout(s) I said I would do?

So far, so good. The dumbbell and yoga workouts have been short and sweet. I have an all-or-nothing personality, and am deliberately taking this slowly so I don't burn out. I also have NO desire to end up sweating for two hours a day, as I did 20 years ago. (I'm also, um, 20 years older than I was then, and it's, um, harder to sweat for two hours a day.)

With the 25th of the month being weigh-in day, I'll be weighing myself on my birthday when May rolls around. Already I'm thinking I'll be 20 pounds lighter by then. And already I'm wishing it would be 30 or 40 or even 50. Ten pounds a month, that's possible, isn't it?

See what happens when I start projecting into the future? That's why ODAAT is So. Damned. Important. And why perfection is so over-rated.

Don't get old

It seems that the older I get, the more winter weather affects my physical comfort. I'm not just talking about grabbing another layer of clothing to trap the heat, although I do that. I'm talking about the discomfort in my right hip, which I've been calling arthritis, although I don't have a real diagnosis. I'm 60, my hip hurts, why should I pay the doctor a hundred bucks to tell me I have arthritis? (Yes, my health insurance sucks. I can't wait to qualify for Medicare. And I will continue to work for single-payer health care – Medicare for all – until Congress passes such legislation. Or until hell freezes over, which will probably come first.)

I'm fortunate to be as old as I am and only have a cranky hip. It doesn't hurt as much when I'm walking or moving around, but when I sit down to relax it reminds me who's the boss.

Yesterday I twisted my left ankle. Right hip, left ankle, it sounds like a conspiracy to put me in a wheelchair. The ankle bothered me most of the afternoon and evening, and I ended up taking a couple Aleve and going to bed very early. I tried to watch a movie but couldn't concentrate and ended up sleeping for almost 10 hours.

And my ankle still hurts, but not as badly as it did yesterday.

It's not like a sprain, it's more like the joint is out of whack. I feel like I might be able to pop it back into place if I knew how to manipulate it.

So. My advice to you youngsters out there is this:

DON'T GET OLD!

Of course I know one alternative would be to die young, and I don't want that either. A better option is to stay active, control your weight and keep moving. The older you get, the harder it will be to regain any measure of fitness you once had. Don't let it slip away as you move through your 30s and 40s.

In other words, don't spend the last third of your life trying to fix something that could have been handled when you were younger and the task was easier. It could happen to you.

I have it on good authority …

that the marmalade turned out great. The friend I was helping with the holiday card went home with two jars and he called it "mmmmmmarmalade." Sounds to me like he liked it!

I'm still working on the 2010 jar I opened the other day. When I tilt one of the new jars, the contents move a little and the color is lovely. Last year's overcooked batch was darker, and the content wasn't really mobile in the jar unless it had been warmed. Delicious, but not something I would serve or give away.

That's the thing about home-canned jams and jellies – you don't know how they'll behave until you open the jar. Surprise! It's like Christmas every time you want a piece of toast. And you can process two batches identically with different results. That happened to me with apple jelly last year. One batch was truly perfect, while the second was a little runny. Which, of course, adds to the charm of home-canned fruit. Heh.

I have enough citrus "in stock" to make two more batches of marmalade, with a couple pieces of fruit left over to eat, though I'll probably just make one. Six pounds of fruit yielded 13 8-ounce jars on Friday. Which reminds me, I should probably check my jar supply.

I spent yesterday hunched over a scanner and the computer, preserving old photographs to load onto the digital picture frame we're giving my husband's mother. I hope she likes it, and I'm wondering if I could hire myself out as a digital picture frame loader-upper. People my mother-in-law's age would really enjoy the memories, but generally don't have the equipment or technical skills to set up the frame. Hmmm. I think I'll put an ad in the paper.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about my weight and fitness and health in general, and I have some stuff to say about it, but not today. All those ideas need to cook a little bit more. Like, maybe, until January 1st. In the meantime, there's football and knitting and Christmas dinner to plan. This week I'll be making candy to go with the cookies we're taking to the Christmas Eve open house we've gone to for the past 15 years.

Probably not a good week to write about my weight and fitness and health. I'm just sayin'.

True confessions ...

Wow, my true-confessions post last Friday sure elicited a lot of comments. (We bloggers love comments, so thank you, thank you, thank you!)

I love that I'm not alone. I know I'm not alone, I've been reading blogs long enough to know that lots of us have food issues. But it's nice to hear what trips you up, too, and it's wonderful to not feel judged.

Of the four actions I listed – continue the almost-daily walking, drink more water, stop snacking, lift weights – you can probably guess the one I haven't started doing yet. Not only am I too lazy to lift a dumbbell, I'm too lazy to go outside to the garage and up the stairs to fetch the dumbbells and put them in the house, where they'll be in sight and available.

This weight-training mental block is bigger than my pants size. The last time I lost a significant amount of lard, dumbbells and barbells and push-ups helped me break through a plateau. It was dramatic, and very noticeable.

If I know it makes a positive difference, what is stopping me from trying it? Mostly I think it's that the other things I know that should, potentially, make a difference – chiefly eating less and moving more – haven't helped, so why would I do something I really don't much care for when it probably won't work anyway?

How. Lame. Is. That?

I love that, for the most part, you shared your experience with me without offering suggestions. Empathy is so affirming and, for me anyway, makes me want to do better. I want to report to you in January that no summer sausage made it into the house or down my gullet for the remainder of the college football season. I want to please you, kind of like the way a puppy wants to please its human.

Something that has crossed my mind many times, usually after I've eaten something that sabotages my efforts, is this: Never trade what you want most for what you want at this moment. I'm not sure if what I want most is to see my dad again, and thus I continue to snack my life away, or if I want his example to help me lose this weight for the last time (is that even possible?) so I can truly enjoy what's left.

I'm 60. Barring a horrific accident or catastrophic illness, I could live long enough to see my great-grandchildren. Do I want to meet them from a wheelchair, too infirm to walk, or do I want to walk with them – up and down stairs, around the block, into their schools?

No one lives forever, but I'd really like the last quarter or third of my life to be as comfortable and meaningful as possible. Keeping that thought first has been challenging. What I want now is the easier, softer way, but nothing of value comes easily. I've been focusing on my dad and his health problems as a way to stay on the right path, but I need to think more positively about the next 20 or 30 years. I need to shift the conversation in my head from what he couldn't do to what I want to continue to do.

Anne offered to do the water challenge with me. I did great over the weekend, downing six to eight glasses each day. I walked five miles Friday, three Saturday, and took a rest day yesterday. Having guests here for the weekend helped limit the snacking, but I can still do better there.

And now is as good a time as any to go get the dumbbells.

If you're still reading this novella, thank you for sticking with me. I use the blog to puzzle things out, and today has been especially productive. That you came with me is, um, icing on the cake. Heh.