Warrior

That's my new favorite pose.  Because I feel like a warrior when I'm busy making my body all bendy at yoga--my fitness trend du jour.

I used to yoga-- I used to be ten shades of bendy, and my body parts never got in the way of whatever pose I wanted to do. But that was in high school, before my body parts decided on their grownup, albeit round, shape.  Of course, I would've called myself athletic then.

It was a shock to finally see myself in the mirror when I signed up for a yoga class at the Y.  Thankfully, they kept the lights pretty dim, so I couldn't really see my body parts sticking out.  (And also because that was the only way I would have ever considered the necessary yoga evil-- spandex.) But I knew.  I felt flabby, not sleek, like I used to feel.


But there was something else--something that reminded me why I ever loved  yoga.  There was power.  There was a connectedness to this body, flabby and round though it may be.  There was a chance to put a stressful world behind me for a bit, and to just breathe.   And there was the after effect, which wasn't exactly like the ephemeral bliss that it looks like on TV, but was a genuine sense that I had given my body what it needed, if only for an hour.   It was different than the running, which by its nature forces you to push harder than you can go.  But that's too much like real life.  Yoga, though, is about listening, and being gentle, and believing that your body--the one you already have, not the one you so restlessly wish for-- is where you do your living.

And that's warrior worthy.  Not warrior like ready to conquer the world warrior, but like warrior who can calmly manage the chaos around her.  I'll take it.

Battle of the Bulge

I love how this goes for me-- I'm a weightloss rockstar for a little bit and then life gets in the way, and I'm back to eating donuts for breakfast, not because I craved donuts, but because they were leftover from a church thing and they're in my house.  It's been a crazy few weeks, with no end in sight.  I don't think I've either been to the grocery store or cooked in at least three weeks.  I've managed to jalk exactly once since my last post (and it wasn't pretty!) And it's highly questionable whether any of my suits will fit by time an expected funeral happens later this week.  My stomach is starting to rebel as it always does when I get this way--and I know it's my own fault, but can't seem to figure out anything better, because as I look at the calendar, I realize I probably won't be home a single night this week. On the upside, as least my scale seems to have spazzed out, and is telling me that I've lost somewhere between 10 and 15lbs.  We'll go with that, and not ponder the fact that it is lying...big time.

Funerals around here always involve lots of food-- thanks to the parade of casserole bearing well-wishers.  And despite my "please don't feed the pastor" campaign, I know that I will probably be expected to eat fried chicken and other southern health nightmares.

I need to exercise, not even because I'm trying to be the pudgeless parson, but because it helps me focus and get my brain wrapped around all that must happen in the next few intense days and weeks.  I may have to cave and zumba in my living room--even while my husband is here.  (Ummm yeah--I try to do that on my lunch break when he is out of the house.  Nobody, not even the love of my life,  needs to see that!) But the Pudgy Parson is about more than just losing weight.  It's about my committment to living well and healthfully.  It's about me learning to take care of my body and soul, so that I have something with which to  care for my flock.  So maybe it's time to get creative.  Maybe it's a time to practice grace with myself, put the looming 5k on the back burner for a week or two, and make space for exercise wherever I can.  Maybe this is time for yoga and resistance bands--the things I can sneak in for a few minutes before the demanding aspects of ministry demand my day away.

Rocky Rockstar

That's me! Because I just had the most amazing thing happen:  today I became a runner (as opposed to a lovely, sweating, pudgy person huffing and puffing pitifully away.)  The nice british lady that lives in my iphone (Get Running App) informed me that I would be running for twenty straight mintues today, which I'll admit doesn't sound like much.  However, considering that my last run was eight mintues, then five minutes of walking, then eight more minutes of running-- that's a pretty big jump.  And I've gotten to this point before when I've attempted a couch to 5k, but I've always given up right here or life has gotten in the way--and I've never conquered it. That's right, I haven't successfully run twenty mintues straight since the earlier mentioned triathlon six years ago.  And I didn't plan to be able to today. I set off running, and tried very hard not to glare at the nice british lady that lives in my iphone.  I thought, "well, I'll do my best and go as far as I can, but if I have to hit pause in the middle, then thats what I have to do."  Only I never even thought about needing to. The nice british lady that lives in my iphone alerted me every five minutes how I was doing, and I was surprised how quickly the minutes were going by. My breathing was nice and steady, my legs weren't screaming, and (this is the best part), I was having fun.  And when the twenty minutes was up, I knew that I could have gone on.  Maybe another ten or twenty or however many minutes. (I didn't because I don't want to be one of those people that does too much too fast and gets knocked out of the race--which I mentioned yesterday.  But knowing I could've gone on makes me feel like a rockstar.)

And in a fabulous serendipitous moment, just as the lovely british lady that lives in my iphone announced that I had "just sixty more seconds of running to go", the theme from "Rocky" started playing.  No one was around but my doggy, so I totally did "Rocky hands".  And I'm not even embarrased.  Because today, I'm a rockstar.  And not only that, but today I became a runner.

A Day of Rest

I'm a pastor (i.e. nerd) so I pay attention when the Bible uses the same word over and over-- and I'm surprised by just how many times the word "rest" shows up.  Apparently, God knew that people get tired out, body and soul.  Gosh, we're even commanded to take a sabbath.  (The other nine don't seem nearly as hard for me as this one.)  And I realize that I'm one of those people God was worried about because I just go and go and go, and once I'm on something I'm on it.  I want to give something my all until there is nothing left to give.

So I was torn today as my lovely british lady that lives in my iphone (GetRunning App) told me that it was a rest day.  That is, a day off.  At first I was tempted to run anyway, because I had by then done it three or four days in a row, and I was in a good groove.  I didn't want to relapse. I didn't want to break my streak of serious dedication.  And besides, I told myself, I feel better when I get some exercise.   But I realized that my ankles have been hurting and my knees making a grinding noise like my brakes, so I talked myself out of it.  I thought about going to the gym and doing the elliptical or something, but as I gettting ready to go, I read an article in Runner's World that talked about how important it was to rest, and about how most injuries are caused by an overzealous person who goes too hard too fast.  The article said "It's better to have two quality days and two days of total rest than four days of mediocrity from lingering fatigue."  Hmmmph.  So I took the hint, and I didn't do anything.

And I was surprisingly productive anyway. My body still felt ramped up instead of sluggish.  And I know I'll be more ready to go tomorrow, even though a small part of me thinks this is counterintuitive.

But I'm seeing some results.  It's been less than a week since I got serious about actually tracking with weight watchers (apparently it only works if you actually count the points...hmmmph), and I'm down over two pounds.  And I'm learning that I don't have to give into every "want" I have, that cravings usually pass,  and that I'm not actually going to starve to death.

Going Green

Green Feather Boa? Why yes, please!

I read in this month's Weight Watchers magazine that signing up for a race is one of the best ways to stay motivated.  (Which, duh, somewhere in my over crowded brain I knew that because I've done it several times... It even worked with I did a triathlon...uh six years and 30lbs ago.)  But when my motivation was flagging, I was having a hard time recalling that advice.

I'm not Irish, but these socks are awfully fun!

I was looking for races and found one in my parents' town-- on March 17, no less.  I mean hey, if you can't do a turkey trot or a reindeer run or a jiggle butt, then you might as well do a leprechaun loop, right?  The timing was right, the place was right, so I'm in-- and training for another 5k.  (I did do a very slow Turkey Trot in November as part of my Girls on the Run Coaching, though.)  I've even talked my mom into doing the race with me.  (Right, Mom? No backing out!) I've been toying with several couch to 5k programs since before Christmas, but now with a goal in mind, it's time to get serious.  I'm using Get Running (available from the App Store).  There's a lovely british woman in my iphone that tells me when it's time to run and when I should walk.  And I'm tracking my runs with RunKeeper.  Because I'm that nerdy that I need to see stats and maps and other fun things.

I'm excited--I'm a goal driven person, so this works just right for me.  I have great plans of dressing up and going green (right again, Mom?) and having a generally goofy sort of time.  I found a lovely pair of green and white socks at Hobby Lobby that I'm thinking of buying to hang up as a visual reminder of my goal.

Seeing progress...

Huh.  Now why didn't I think of that!  That looks a lot more fun than the overly-perky "It's your weight-tracking day.  Have you tracked your weight?" reminder that pops up on my iphone every Thursday.  Because when I've had a busy, motivationless week like I have, I hit "ignore" quickly.  Who wants to fess up and watch the graph go up instead of down?

 But this is lovely.

A friend of mine suggested using quarters-- that could be loads of fun too.  Because when you hit your goal, you could spend all the glorious quarters.   But I kind of like this the way it is-- a nice, color coordinated reminder of how I'm doing.

I totally ripped this off from a friend on Pinterest.  You're welcome to rip things off me from pinterest too!  You can do that here or by clicking on the button on the right side bar.

Mean voices in my head

Love this quote: "People often say that motivation doesn't last.  Well, neither does bathing--that's why we recommend it daily." Zig Ziglar, as quoted in the Jan/Feb edition of the Weight Watchers magazine.

We were at Chick-fil-a and Mom asked, "So how many points is that?" Like I would know off the top of my head.  Uh...which I definitely would have at one point.  But truth be told, points weren't even on my radar then (or since.) I could've looked it up with my happy iphone app, but once again, my motivation is flagging.  It seems like such a big goal (even though I keep telling myself to just lose ten pounds, which is a small easy to achieve goal, some mean voice in my head says, "Uh...ten plus fifty would be closer.")  And the weather in the mornings is making it hard to run (and the new bed is forcing, yes forcing, me to stay in it longer.)  And I'm busy.  And I feel like a ten or twenty minute workout is a waste of my time (which I know it isn't, but it's those mean voices again.)

And I'm making excuses.

Tomorrow, I won't sleep through my alarm.  Tomorrow I will hit the gym even if it is too cold to run in the morning.  Tomorrow I will find my motivation.  Tomorrow will be better.

Of course, as Annie so famously sang, "Tomorrow is always a day away."