"Get up, Trinity!"

"What will the Pudgy Parson have to say about this workout?" I'm pretty sure he was sneering in an I-told-you-so way, but I was too busy trying to keep my lunch inside my body.  And also trying to resist the urge to kick him...hard.  But seeing as I was in no position to run away, namely because I ceased to have control over my legs, I just made my aforementioned Passing-a-cactus face and did my best to ignore him. Also the lunch thing was keeping me busy.

 I knew it was going to be bad.  Any time he-who-trains wants to make a point, he makes a point. My ability to use my limbs in the next three days is not a concern. He will neither push me, nor let me push myself to the point of injury--he's watching closely.  But he sure isn't going to let me hang out in my comfort zone either.  This is why I pay him the big bucks.

  He's tolerated my running. He has said relatively little when he learned how many of his running rules I was breaking, and how often.  I (stupidly) kept telling him how well my knees were doing, that I wasn't having to ice or Advil, that I kept signing up for 5ks (and wasn't planning on stopping.)  I also (again, stupidly) let him read my blog on intensity. And I asked him for this, to give me more, because what I was doing wasn't enough. (Really, really, stupid...)

But apparently, if my knees were fine to run, they were also strong enough to squat.  And we're not talking the half-squats that most gym-goers do (yup, got that lecture.) We're talkin bad dance moves low.  And we're not talking just squats, because a leg party just wouldn't be complete without also doing the leg press, and lots and lots of set-your-legs-on-fire calf work.

I survived the He-who-trains-death-by-squats leg day... for 22 minutes. I'm not positive I will be able to get off the couch tomorrow-- which is unfortunate since, being a preacher, people notice if I don't show up on Sundays.  On the downside, I thought I might actually die.  On the upside, I "got" to practice intensity.  And my knees were fine.  Apparently, this is what I've been working toward for the last year--because this is what leg days are supposed to look like.  Funny, I thought I was working toward being a 135lb She-Ra, but you know, having quads as big as a linebacker's is good too.

There's a scene in the move, The Matrix,  where the female protagonist, Trinity, is being chased by agents. She falls down and looks at the door, and says, "Get up, Trinity.  Just Get Up!" Some times you have to say that to yourself.  Sometimes outloud.   Today, that scene played in my mind over and over.  It will play again tomorrow as I try to walk. It will play next time I do that workout.  It will play until I don't need it anymore.   But, then again, when will I ever not need that scene? Isn't life just an exercise in getting up, of looking inside and drawing out just a little more than you thought you had?

I wish I had more than 22 minutes in me.  I'm disappointed.  But it's been a long time since I've worked that hard in the gym-- and having done so felt good.  I left it all in the gym (except my lunch, which I kept with me.)  I needed the reminder.  I won't need it again soon.

Get up, Trinity.  Just Get UP!



P.S. Assuming I can still walk, one day I'm gonna be able to wear this shirt... sadly, I might actually wear it. In public. With Spandex.

Intense!

He-who-trains is all about the mental imagery when he wants to make a memorable point. He lectured me about intensity for a while, but apparently I wasn't getting it.  Until he came up to me and said... well, uh... what he said isn't entirely appropriate since he's a little crass, but the idea was "I want you working so hard that your face looks like you're *passing* a cactus."  I can't swear to it, but I'm pretty sure he made some equally graphic sound effects to go with his demonstration face. Ok, ok... file that under TMI.

Graphic though it was, I've not forgotten.  Of course, no one else at the gym has either.  There's never a day that someone doesn't reference cactus passing.  Some days, I'm really afraid that the universal parent wisdom is true, and that my face my actually get stuck that way. That would be truly unfortunate. The cactus passing face isn't pretty.

But what's less pretty is the being face of mediocrity. I've kinda been all about the comfort-zone, and maybe didn't realize that applied to more than just the gym. It's been my path: do what's safe, easy and known. I'm the mild salsa kinda person because anything with too much sizzle can't be good.  I've been thinking about intensity a lot lately.  I was at a writer's retreat a few weeks ago, and one of our phrases was "Bring the heat!" Of course, that's easier to apply to words than it is to life. 

He-who-trains has ruined cacti for me. But had he not given me this overly graphic image, I would've probably pranced along (ok, to be fair, I don't think I've ever pranced...but I could start) in my comfort zone-- which is decidedly not where progress happens.  Or as the graphic floating the interwebs puts it:

The problem is that this is true.  About everything. 

It's true about weight loss.  It's true about becoming the person you want to be.  It's true about living as passionately and creatively as you imagine yourself living. 

People, for the most part, are comfort zone dwellers.  We make decisions based solely on maintaining homeostastis, and not causing waves, or throwing a proverbial wrench in any works, or not fixing what's not broken. We keep the same style of clothes we've worn for decades (and label ourselves "classic", even though "retro" might be a better fit.) We keep the same job--even if we wake up growling every single day for years.  We do things that no longer suit us, just because someone expects us to.  As a pastor, I see it in the church. We hold on, franctically, to the way things have always been, and seek to "maintain" at all costs.  We're afraid to want something badly enough to have to truly pour our blood, sweat and fears into it.

There's a line that says "What's the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results." I'm tired of comfortable, wheel-spinning, insanity.  I choose intensity.  Even if I have to make a really ugly face.  

So this happened...

This was my senior prom. I was a size 12.

Since then, I gained four dress sizes and fifty pounds. (Seriously? How did I not notice? Or have the energy to do something?)

Thirteen years later, the dress is a little big.

Guess I'll have to find something else to wear on my cruise...

Witches and Promises

Since being finally cleared to run a few months ago, I've started running a lot.  My knee is cooperating, with surprisingly little ice or Advil-- and it's cheaper than any vice worth having.  Double plus, it's cheaper than therapy.  But running has sort of become my escape.  It's my time to think and listen to bad teenybopper music (which I pretend makes me hip.  But maybe "hip" people have a better word for that? I wouldn't know...) Running is one of those things that's Saving My Life right now.

But it also reminds me that in some (many?) ways, I am my father's daughter. My dad is super competitive-- whether in his racecar (yeah, he took up being a racecar driver at age 62... that's how he rolls) or on his bike, he's gonna make sure he does whatever he can to make sure that he isn't passed.  Usually running is a solo activity, which works fine for me.  But a church member has invited me to be her partner in crime, and we've taken to doing 5K's together.  Her husband even waits at the finish line, and cheers for me as loudly as he cheers for her.  He takes pictures of me huffing and puffing across the finish line. That's kinda awesome.   But even though I do the races for the fun of doing them, not because I want to win (umm... definitely still a ways away from that being a reasonable goal!), I still don't like to be passed. I still run a little faster than I probably should.

Someone told me to pick a person that is just a little faster than I am, and work to pass them.  A few weeks ago, I did a race called "Night of the Ghoul" and the whole time, I followed a witch that I just couldn't pass. No really.  A witch.  In a tutu...

The whole time, I was thinking "Just beat the witch. BEAT the witch!" but I never did.  And she was several age brackets older than I am, as if being beaten by a witch in a tutu wasn't bad enough.

She was at yesterday's race too (though perfectly normal and not witchy.)  She's actually pretty nice.  But she was just ahead of me again.  And again, unpassable. I talked to my church friend, and realized that my friend wanted to beat the witch's time too. They are in the same age bracket, and the witch has now twice beaten her as well.  So my friend and I made a pact-- that we were going to work hard enough and get fast enough that both of us beat the witch.  It's nothing personal, but being beaten by people in tutus is not acceptable.

Yesterday was a hard race.  It was COLD.  I walked from my house to the greenway to get warmed up.  I dressed well, but it was cold.  I had a hard time breathing, and for the first time in a year and a half, I had shin splints.  All I could think about were those months when it hurt to even walk, but I wouldn't stay off them. (I wrote about the race where I almost crawled here) I kept pushing and pushing.  I had to be taught how to help them heal-- and it invovled giving up some of my favorite cute shoes.  It was almost worth it to be able to walk without crying.

When I started running again, I made a promise-- I wasn't going to hurt myself.  If my knee was fussy, I'd walk or wait for another day. If something felt off, I was going to take it slow and do only as much as I could without hurting something.  I guess we make promises so that we have something on which to hold when things are hard.  As everyone and their brother and dog was passing me yesterday, I wanted to run through the pain.  I wanted to be bad and tough.  I still wanted to beat the witch.  But I remembered my promise-- and I fought hard to keep it.  Today it's ice and Advil-- and despite it being a gorgeous blue sky day, no running.

Maybe it is indeed possible to teach an old dog new tricks. Or maybe I realize I'll never be able to beat the witch if I'm hurt ;-)

Movin on UP!

So... two three things.

He-who-trains said, tactfully, "You spend too much time sitting on your [butt]." Well, duh.  I'm a pastor-- pretty well qualifies as a sedentary job.  You know, except for those times when I'm running around screaming (or trying not too) or those times when I'm doubling as a fire fighter.  But mostly sedentary. I should've known better than to ask "What do you want me to do about it?" Of course, he had a solution: Don't sit down. All day.  I thought he was kidding-- he was not. So he threw down the gauntlet.  I made it all day Monday and today (except for lunch). I'm standing at my kitchen counter as I write this. Yesterday I had a meeting and thought it'd be weird to stand-- but maybe I can do that later.  I'm definitely more tired than I would be at the end of a sitting day. I suppose I'm burning more calories.  Interestingly, though, I feel like I'm thinking more clearly. I'm more creative.  (And I'm sure I'm making people confused as they walk by and see me standing.)

Maybe those things (at least the serious ones) are related to food.  Since returning from my writer's retreat, I've been trying to mimic my eating there.  I'm eating a lot of spinach, both in green smoothies and in large salads. I'm trying to eat from the rainbow, and even eating grapefruit.  I don't hate it as much as I once did...  I've completely dropped dairy (except for the creamer in my coffee-- and that can't have much lactose.) I miss the yogurt and cottage cheese and milk, but my stomach bothers me less, and I feel like I have more energy.  I'm going to drop gluten soon.  I long ago realized that white bread was a trigger food that made me want more and more-- and made me crave sugar, but I'm also wondering if maybe I'd feel better if I dropped it all together. I'm eating an actual breakfast of eggs and meat, and that's progress because I've never liked breakfast... at least not at breakfast time. I'm interested to see what my body does with some of these changes.

In a complete show of nerdiness, I joined the UP movement.  UP is a wearable fitness tracker that looks like a small wristband.  It tracks steps, and gives me more data than I ever wanted to know about myself. It can tell me exactly how long I was deeply asleep and how long I was lightly asleep and how many times I woke up during the night. It watches my sleep cycles and I can set an alarm to wake me-- only it will wake me up when I am sleeping lightly instead of soundly--and do it within a 20 minute window of my requested wakeup time.  It has the capabilities of syncing with popular apps like Gym-pact and Runkeeper, and with wireless scales like those by Withings.  One of the things I love most is its food tracker.  Finally-- an app that I can scan labels of foods I eat, and it compiles them.  It also has an extensive database of non-barcoded items. I can see my entire day by steps and nutrtional information and sleep.  I'm one of those people who was well motivated by incentive charts-- and couldn't stand to have a box that didn't get a star in it. So setting a goal of 10,000 steps (more later) will make sure I hit 10,000 steps...even if I'm on a treadmill at 10 p.m.  It's nerdy I know. But, maybe that's ok, if it makes keeping track fun.

The Body Spirit Connection

"I will feed you things that nourish your creativity.  I will feed you really healthy things, but they'll be delicious, so I hope you won't mind too much." I'm at a writer's workshop at Whidbey Island, and that's what the chef said to us as we started the week.

She's done just that-- beautiful displays of food that is mostly locally grown, and whole.  Nothing is processed. A lot of things I've never heard of, but have been surprised at how wonderful they taste. Things I would've never eaten on my own.

I've been thinking a lot about what she said about foods that nourish creativity.  I'm not sure what that means exactly. I've read in other places that too much sugar can dull creativity, because it increases dopamine levels, which in turn acts as a numbing agent.  It's that "food coma" effect we all sort of know. Here's an article if you're interested: http://www.livestrong.com/article/551717-the-diet-exercise-and-creativity-connection/  Julia Cameron, who wrote The Artist's Way and The Write Diet, suggests that food can become a distraction to our creativity. She says, "Food is a seditive. We use it to block our feelings of discomfort. We use it to block our feelings, period. Rather than buckle down and accomplish the difficult piece of work that looms just ahead, we scoop up a snack and tell ourselves it can wait until tomorrow." 

I'm not sure how much of this is food related, but I do feel clearer and more articulate. I wake up with words, and a powerful need to write-- which though I love words, is not something I've felt in a long time. I have dreams that speak powerfully. Perhaps it is as much the environment.  Perhaps its the quiet or time set aside to just write, but I wonder if a little bit of it has to do with the food. I wonder if maybe not the specific food I've been eating, but the way I've been eating, is functioning as a seditive or creative blocker.

I've been thinking about going Paleo anyway-- trying to get over this blasted hump of a plateau.  But now I'm thinking more about it, maybe in a different way. These last few days, my skin somehow looks better (or maybe the lighting here is bad?) and I feel better. I feel more aware of my body, and less sluggish.  I guess this is silly, but I feel somehow more whole and connected?  If I do, in fact, want to write, I need to adopt a lifestyle that will help me do that, but not at the expense of my other fitness and life goals.  I'm going to talk to He-who-trains when I get back and see what he thinks.  Will I still be able to lift and run if I adopt this lifestyle? Will I have enough energy and be able to take in enough protein? Even if Paleo isn't right for me, maybe I can find a way to incorporate more whole foods into my life. 

How much does intake foodwise affect outgo productivity wise? I'm curious to see what comes out of this experiment. 

Worship with your Whole Body

When I was in Africa, I learned what it was like to worship with my whole body--clapping and dancing and singing and praying.  I would go home sore and exhausted, but having worshipped in a very lovely sort of way.  And as a seminarian who was questioning everything and stressed out to the point of breaking, I also Found God in Spandex as I trained for a triathlon. (I think that was my first published piece.) So the idea made perfect sense to me when I read a colleague's blog "Worship in Running Shoes".  The idea was to find a way to worship as she was running. Her playlist rocks (and definitely jazzed up my itunes account.) Then a fellow RevGal undertook the challenge here.  Her playlist rocks too.

So, it's been a hard day for a lot of reasons and I'm supposed to be doing 1,000 things but just really want to clear my head with a run, so this seems like the next best thing.  You know, procrastination helps relieve stress.

Here's the gauntlet that was thrown by Shelli (who was linked above.)

  Heads up, though; all of these songs are secular, or Christian-y (Christian-ish?). What I'm saying is if you're looking for the WOW Worship running mix, this is not for you. But I think as Christians we should be intentional about identifying the sacred in what might not be overtly called "godly". My criteria is pretty simple: (1) You have to be able to run to it. (2) It has to have the capacity to point you to God, even if you have to be a little creative. (3) No references to pimpin', guns, or anything that may sound like making out with Jesus (Ewwww, yuck, no! This is not the place to come for your Jesus is my Boyfriend fix.) You'll have to put your imaginations into it, and your hearts . . . and your feet, but here goes . . . - 

Alright, here's my whole body worship. (Side note-- my running, worshipping colleagues are much more hip than I am.  Painful realization: I listen to music that is both old and slow--but sometimes that's how my running feels.)

Prelude—We didn’t start the Fire—Billy Joel

Call to Worship—There is a Meeting Here Tonight  Cantus

Confession Sin Wagon

Assurance of Pardon Closer to FIne

 Prayer for Illumination—Walking on Sunshine

Word

Born to Fly

Learning to Fly-- Petty

Graceland—Paul Simon

Ants Marching—Dave Matthews

Don’t Stop Believing-- Journey

Affirmation of Faith  How Sweet it is to be Loved by You—James Taylor

Prayers—Prayin for Daylight—Rascall Flatts

Offering – Fight Like a Girl -- Bombshel

Benediction  Send Me on My Way—Rusted Root