Survivor: Day 1

“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." Christopher Robin to Pooh

So... I survived day 1 with a trainer, and was pleasantly surprised. Gasp-- I actually enjoyed the time.  (Uh. Minus looking like a beet, having my body parts jiggle all over the place, and breathing like... well, I don't know what to compare it to, but it wasn't pretty.)  I enjoyed the challenge and I could definitely feel exactly which muscles are never getting used. (Apparently people are supposed to work their abs.  Huh.) I won't lie-- I was surprised by how quickly the time went.  It was high intensity (umm...yeah) but there was enough variety that my mind didn't have a chance to wander-- or do anything except making sure my lungs were getting enough air so that I didn't fall over in the floor.  I love that he gave me a flashback to my Tae Kwon Do days and had me doing cresent kicks and the like.  Granted, last night's kicks weren't pretty, but my body seemed to remember how to do them.  I'm excited to watch as some of that begins to come back to me. 

The deal I made with the trainer is that he would train me so that I could be a runner. (Even if it involved me making a deal where I wouldn't run for several weeks, so I could build up my muscles.  Apparently he didn't think it normal that I was spending hours with frozen peas on my shins so I could walk the next day.) I think that even with several weeks of little to no running, I'm going to be way ahead of where I was if I was just slogging away at getting in miles.  I can tell that my legs and back will be much stronger, and that my endurance will increase rapidly. 

Everyone on facebook is listing something they are thankful for each day in November. I haven't been doing that (at least not on facebook.) But today, the trainer (also my friend) gets my gratitude.  For calling me on my stuff, for caring enough to tangle with me and not giving me the time to give him much lip, for challenging me to set a standard of strength for myself.  But most of all, for shattering my long held belief that being in any shape other than round was an impossibility. 

I'm in kind of a fierce mood today. Like "Move, world.  I've got things to do and I don't have time for you to stand in my way." And maybe that's the start of something...

Awake Again

Good Morning, World-- It's me, The Pudgy Parson-- who has apparently been hibernating like a bear for the last several months. I've been busy.  You know, with getting set up at a new church and making my house a home and turning twenty five (again).  But I've also been playing games with myself, telling myself that once life settled down, I'd start up again.  Pushing myself to be a runner, even if my muscles were hurting so badly that I cried when I had to walk.

But I'm awake again, really awake.  And I've made a new commitment. I'm starting work with a trainer tonight--which I'll admit makes this pudgy parson more than a little nervous.  I'm one of those people who likes to pretend (at least for myself) that I've got it all together.  I know that when I begin work tonight, I'm going to have to admit to myself (and at least one other person) that I've let myself take the easy route, that I've gotten kinda lazy, that the foods I eat matter, and that I'm not any longer the athletic person that I am in my brain. I'm nervous because this trainer is also a friend of mine but at the same time, I guess I'm excited.  So, I guess this pudgy parson is going to let down her guard and let a friend help me do one of the things I've never been able to do on my own.  (But I'm not above praying that I don't jiggle too much in the process.)

So I'm being brave and taking a step-- and I'm going to recommit myself to documenting the journey in writing. I love the church where I serve, and I'm soon going to be inviting my congregation into this journey, not only to support me, but to partner with me so that we can all make some changes together. I keep reminding myself that part of my job as a pastor is not only to care for myself, but to raise the bar on how we are as a community.

I found one of my old Tae Kwon Do shirts this morning, and was reminded of what used to be my favorite quote.

It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; Who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. (Teddy Roosevelt)

I've been the critic. Today I choose to get in the arena.  Today, I remind myself that I am worth fighting for.

Back in the Saddle

It's been a long, unhealthy summer, as evidenced by this pudgy parson's poorly fitting clothes.  But, at least there's been a good reason for it! (Hey, I can rationalize with the best of them!)  We've been in flux since June, when we realized that we would be moving!

But, we're here now (at least our bodies.  Our stuff, well...that's in process). And it's time to start undoing all the damage, and hopefully quit popping buttons off my ill-fitting britches.  But we've made the decision that we're going to do better things in this new place.

And to our credit, the very first day we joined the gym here.  I've gone on really long walks (read: hikes. These here mountains ain't no joke!) with my doggy almost every day. We've made better choices food wise. (Read: we quit stocking Little Debbies in the cabinet.) We've made plans of ways to fit exercise into our lives.  (Read: well, you gotta start somewhere and a plan is as good a place as any)

Last night, though, I surprised myself.  I went to a spin class. I only thought I was going to die a few times.  It wasn't pretty, but at least I had a bike in the back. (Anyone who would've been behind me would've gotten a very jiggly view.  Spin class is apparently not so great for hiding your backside.) I have avoided spin classes in the past as they've kind of intimidated me.  But I went, and it wasn't as bad as I would've guessed.

While I was spinning there, getting nowhere exactly, Bon Jovi's "It's my life" came on.  That used to be a ramp up, play on repeat over and over, song for me. Hearing it again reminded me of my promise to myself-. In it, though the words never said it, I was able to hear me telling myself that I want better for myself and that I'm willing to work for it.  So these are my new words:

It's my life.
It's now or never.
I ain't gonna live forever.
I just wanna live while I'm alive.

A few more reasons to run...

I would choose this view over staring at the tv any day of the week...

The Cornfields by Dawn's Early Light

Who doesn't smile to see a hugemongous sunflower?

Sunflowers...as far as the eye can see

It's in the budget

DH and I listened to Dave Ramsey's "Total Money Makeover" as we were driving home from vacation-- as we've not been nearly as dedicated as we once were. We needed our motivational fires lit...again. (Huh-- this seems to be a recurring theme in my life these days!) DH and I decided together that we want to thrive, and it seems like all we have done the last few months is survive.

Dave Ramsey's whole thing is making a budget, and he loves to say that most people feel like they've gotten a raise when they get on a budget-- when every dollar has a job. He also says that the first step in controlling your money is learning to control the person that you see in the mirror.  "I want it now!" is what the red faced toddler says-- and the grownup who should know better, but who isn't willing to deny gratification for a little while.

It's dawned on me that financial responsibility has a lot of similarities to physical responsibility. (Hmmm... physical and fiscal-- those sound an awful lot alike.) If I want to thrive (which is really what the Pudgy Parson is about), then I need to learn to deal with that person in mirror.  And if budgeting helps my wallet, then I have to believe that budgeting is going to help my waist too-- which is exactly the idea behind weight watchers.  I can budget my points each day, so that I know what my limits are.  I get extra points for exercise, and splurging on treats quickly dwindles my surplus.  It's all about budgeting.  Thinking of it this way makes it seem managable.  I know exactly where my money and my calories are going-- and it helps me be in control of my environment.  Feeling out of control also makes the Pudgy Parson feel a little mean-- which is definitely not a good thing!

Look out, wallet! Look out, waist (and hips and thighs and sticky-outy girl parts), the Pudgy Parson is on a budget!

Starting from scratch

Well, I do exaggerate a little...but not much, because that's exactly what it felt like.  I went running today...and by that, I mean, jalking-- at best.  It wasn't pretty.  Oh, I knew my endurance would flag some, but nothing like what it did.

Several months ago, I was awfully proud of myself for graduating out of the couch-to-5k program (otherwise referred to as "The Lovely British Lady that Lives in my Iphone").  She took me to where I was comfortably running 30+ mins.  But having done that, it was time to take the next step and work with "Ease into 10k".  So I deleted the nice lady from my iphone as I pursued bigger dreams.  But now that I have spent the last several weeks sitting on my ever expanding behind, I need her back.  I apologized to the nice lady (and to my body), and put her back on my iphone.   And without snarking at me, the lovely lady helped me start again.

On the upside, I felt better after finishing the jalk.  And my doggie was pretty happy too. (It's been too hot to leave them outside, but she is an energetic dog-- so the jalk gave her an outlet too.)

There's a half marathon I want to run on Nov 3 called "Conquer the Mountain."  Well, let's be honest here.  If the Pudgy Parson makes it that far, there will already have been a considerable amount of conquering.  But, a gal always needs a goal.

Calling the Pudgy Parson

The Pudgy Parson has left the building!   And hasn't been sighted for some six weeks...it's like she's vamooshed, and definitely not because she has shrunk so much as to be a mere sliver of her old self.

The Pudgy Parson is about healthy living, about making good choices, about making time for what is important.  And that person hasn't been anywhere to be seen lately.   Oh, there's been something living in her body, but it's a grouchy, tired, road-worn, bad choice making, non-exercising person.  Clearly, the heart and soul of the Pudgy Parson has been displaced.

But she's coming back.  Because today I stepped on the scale, and just how badly I've been behaving. After a week at the beach, which was preceeded by six weeks of more or less living out of a suitcase (i.e. not exercising and grabbing fast food), the scale read a number that I couldn't believe. I really thought the ten pound cat had snuck up on the scale with me (as she does sometimes).  I thought the scale was lying.  There is no way that huge number was accurate.

Except that it probably was.  I've not only gained what I'd worked so hard to lose, but a few pounds besides.

Today starts the second half of a year.  It's like New Years, 2.0.  And my life is settling down a little.  And there are new things on my horizon. And I'm tired of feeling so... blah.  I can do better than this, and I want better for me than what I'm doing.   I preached from 2 Corinthians 2 this morning and The Message translation phrases Paul's words this way:  Don't let your good intentions grow stale.

Um, hello! Pudgy Parson... are you out there? I'm ready for a do-over!