Walking the Talk

The last few weeks I have been eating badly.  There I admitted it.   There are good reasons excuses: stress, a new medication, a new schedule. Until a few days ago, I had no appetite, and sort of more or less played the "let's see how few calories my body can live on" game.  And of course, I know better. I've been doing this for almost two years.  I get it: bodies need a certain number of calories to do what they are supposed to do. Any more, and the body plumps like a lovely little (well no so much little exactly) marshmellow.  Any less, and basic body systems shut down. I KNOW!

A friend-- who is a fitness rockstar with a body to prove it-- asked me if I did myfitnesspal.  And I told her I was faithful with it until a month or so ago. She challenged me to add her as a friend... and... wait for it... make my food diary public.  It was late, and I was tired, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Until of course I realized that this fitness rockstar would be seeing what I ate. (The thought did cross my mind that I could lie in my food diary, but the problem is that my belly, and hips, and gluteus maximus always know the truth.)

But the only thing I hate worse than being stupid is someone knowing that I'm being stupid. And apparently that fact alone was enough to help me get back on track.

For a little while now, I've been working to become certified as a personal trainer.  The difference this has made in my life has been so huge, that I want to help other people feel good in their bodies.  Well, that, and I'm just nerdy enough that I'm completely fascinated by the  human body. But mostly, the good health thing. I'm really close to being certified, and I'm starting to think about what I'll as I take on clients of my own. The gargantuan-all-things-training-book, Volume I (seriously, that's how it has felt as I've trudged through the material) made a good point that part of my credibility as a trainer comes from the lifestyle I lead.  He-who-trains has spent a fair amount of vocal energy talking about "walking the talk." (Which comes up in an irritating variety of conversations, including my as yet unbroken terrible posture habit. Seriously, if you know me in real life... please tell me to stand up straight if you see me slouching like a 95 year old woman.)

As a trainer, I will want my clients to believe me when I say that the way they eat is every bit as important as what they do in the gym.  I will help them learn to eat well, but in order for them to trust me, they need to know that I do it too.  Sure, there are cheat meals, and we can talk about that, but that's the exception and not the rule.  Some days, your body needs more, like on the super-duper-nasty Leg Day I just had, but that's a springboard for conversation. So, in effort to model the lifestyle I hope my clients will choose,  my diary is out there for all the world to see.

I'm walking the talk.  Metaphorically, until I regain normal functioning in my legs. Then I'll walk. And talk.  And definitely walk the talk. (But probably not walk and chew gum.)  My... errr... plate is an open book.

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