Me and Shakespeare

Quote du jour: Our faults, dear Brutus, lie not in our stars, but in our selves.

- Will Baby, Julius Ceasar

Better. Could be worse, anyway. Though I do think that if I'm going to feel like I'm being stabbed in the back, I should be wearing a toga in the ides of March. Interesting to note (well, interesting to me), that beer therapy has no effect. I thought alcohol acted as an analge-, an analg- a thing that made pain go away for a while. But no.

Still going to go Cold Carrot today. No food that has even the slightest inclination to aid the inflammatory response (e.g. anything with saturated fat) shall pass these lips.

Exercise du jour: one gentle walk at lunch.

Me & Alfred Hitchcock

Yes, it's a photo I used once before. But it's cold outside, and this photo is hot.

Number of migraines: 1
Number of days entertaining said headache: 4
Minutes of exercising accomplished: 20 (on Tuesday)

Le sigh. At least I made it to Friday. Why does a headache leave you feeling wiped out? I mean, it's not as if I were working out or anything. Unfair, I call it.

Site du jour: Celebrities riding a bicycle. Somehow, I hadn't associated Alfred Hitchcock with bike riding. Sadly, no pictures of Hugh on the site. Yet.

Exercise du jour: Call me optimistic, if you will, but today the aim is to ride the bicycle. If Hitchcock can do it, why not me?
Done! Alfred was an inspiration. Or else having the wind at my back made the ride seem easier. 12 miles and all's well.


Photo courtesy of Barbara.Doduk

Me and Virginia Woolf

I read other people's diaries.
Now wait. Don't leave in a huff. Let me explain.

I wait until the diary has been published first. Which is usually not until the person has died. (I'd certainly prefer that my diary not be read by anyone else until I've died.)

Anyway, if you've ever read Virginia Woolf's diaries, you know that she included a lot of comments that were specifically written for her future self, "I wonder what future Virginia will think of this." (Clearly, she planned to re-read her diaries when she was much older. I can only conclude that her handwriting was better than mine.)

The point I'm coming around to is that I ran across a similar entry in the diary I wrote when I was 17. At the time, I wrote to my future self that it didn't matter if I got married and had children, it didn't matter if I stayed single and devoted myself to helping people. All the future paths that lay open to me were good, and I accepted whatever my future self chose to do with this life we shared.

My reaction to reading this was odd. I thought, "Well, who the hell are you to tell me that? Yes, it's all very nice of you to give me permission to end up where I am, but what business is it of yours? We're two totally different people. I'm not you. You certainly are not me, you little twit. And no, damn it, you're not fat!"

Goal of the month: Sigh. Yes yes yes still stolidly slogging steadily through the 30-day purge of Stuff.
Done!



Goal of the week: Out the door by 8 a.m.
Look, I'm not claiming a fail here. I blame God for the ice that covered the roads. I didn't want to set foot outdoors that early.

Exercise du jour: 200 Squats challenge, week 4
19
22
16
16
24
Done! Dang but those are getting harder.



Plus, walked 2 miles.
Plus, 20 minutes ellipticalling, which I would not have done if it hadn't been for the HBBC and my pathetic need to boost my points. It's making my life less pointless.

Holiday Bootie Buster Challenge:
3

Portrait of Virginia Woolf by Roger Fry.

Brendan Behan and the 6 mile run

Quote du jour: I'm not a writer with a drinking problem. I'm a drinker with a writing problem. - Brendan Behan.

Exercise du jour: Not sure about this, but the schedule calls for a 6 mile run today. Last week, the foot hurt after the 5.5 mile run.
I did manage a 2 mile run a few days later without much pain.
But 6 miles?
So long as I stuck to the wood chip trail, things actually went pretty well.
But 6 miles?
The swelling is way down in my foot, so that's another plus.
But 6 miles?

I think the best thing to do is to try, slowly, and see what the foot has to say. If it bothers me to run on it, what the hell, I can try running a little and walking a lot.

If I end up walking 90% of the way, I'll still feel like I earned my star. Even if I'm just a walker with a jogging problem, it still counts.

Semi-fail. I would love to blame my foot, but the problem was with the opposite end of the body. I procrastinated the whole day away putting this off, then got depressed and did a jog/walk for a few miles. On the plus side, got a lot of boring chores done while procrastinating.

Feet courtesy of kk+.

To Exercise Or Not to Exercise?

This morning's self-talk:

Me: Hey, the schedule says "Get up early and cycle briskly to work."
Inner Slug: Yeah? Well that's fine if the schedule wants to do that, but this body needs another hour or two of sleep.
Me: Hello? Are we awake yet? There's still time to get up and cycle part-way to work.
Inner Slug: In this heat?
Me: It's only 70 degrees. You won't faint.
Inner Slug: It'll be over 100 by this afternoon. I'm fragile.
Me: Pleeeeeeeease?
Inner Slug: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz........

Yes, my inner conversations really are that boring. There are probably people out there who have fascinating inner soliloquies, the kind Hamlet was always indulging in. If Hamlet had been debating with his inner slug about exercising, rather than wrestling with his inner doubts about his father's death, what a dull play it would have been.

However, unlike Hamlet, I am putting my dithering to good use by posting it up here on the blog so that all the world (or a minute fraction thereof) can see my sloth and thus shame me into getting the damn exercise done. If I can't motivate myself from the inside out, I'll reverse the process.

Exercise du jour: 10 miles cycling. Or at least 8 (depending on the heat). But at least 8 miles.

Me, Picasso, & James Thurber

People tell me it's useful to keep picture records of my progress.

The problem is that even the idea of putting photographs of myself up on the blog depresses me utterly. On the other hand, I've always admired people who did have the fortitude to put their pictures up on their blog. They also tend to have been successful in reshaping themselves. Maybe there's a connection. I knew photos would not work for me, but I did an interesting experiment. I drew my shape.

Since I am of course gifted in artistic skills self-delusion, I decided to draw in the style of Picasso or of James Thurber. I drew what I recalled looking like three months ago and what I looked like today.


Note: Yes, I did chop my arms off for these pictures. But then I had them surgically reattached. No worries.

My spare tire has definitely lost a little air, and it's caused a redistribution of stuff. It's like I still have most of the weight that I'd had before, but instead of being around my waist, it all just slid south a few inches.

Technical note: If you want these progress pictures to twirl around, PastaQueen style, follow this procedure:

1 - Print out the picture.
2 - Lay the printout on a flat surface, such as a table.
3 - Run around and around the table while keeping your gaze fixed on the printout.

[Note: the womanagement of Sheesh are not responsible for any injuries that might be incurred during this procedure.]

Hey, if you want some cool progress photos:

• See PQ's fabulous progress photos. (They twirl!)
  
• Even if they don't twirl, I do love Crabby McSlacker's progress pictures. (Amazing progress there.)
• For other really cool progress pictures, check out Diet Girl's blog. But please don't steal her pics, as a)that's really uncool and b) she knows several lawyers who have the same sense of humor as an underfed rottweiler.

Somehow, I don't think I need to worry about anyone stealing my pics.


Exercise du jour: Jog 3 miles. I'll see if I feel like going a bit further, to make up for the Friday fail.
Done! Not a pretty job, but I did it.

One way to tell God really wants you to exercise today

I opened my front door this morning and found my driveway blocked by a big mound of gravel. And a ditch in the street where they're laying a new water pipe.

The guys cheerfully told me that they'd move the gravel if I wanted to wait awhile. I got the feeling God wanted me to walk (to the Max station) today.

Well, God and the Water Department.

I'm starting to feel like Arthur Dent

Exercise du jour:
Thanks to God, and the Water Department, and my co-walking co-worker at lunch, walked one hour, 45 minutes. No leg pain!

Slaps forehead I knew something was missing. How could I have forgotten the sparkly gold star?

Me, Goethe, & Jabba the Hut

Quote du jour: Know myself? If I knew myself, I'd run away.
- Goethe

I hate seeing pictures of myself. It's depressing. A friend just posted photos of what I look like while on a hike. (Note to self: walk behind friends if they're holding cameras.)

You'd think it would make me feel more inspired to work out. It doesn't. I just want to ban all cameras from my presence.


Exercise du jour: More sprint walking, preparing for the Astoria Bridge Crossing.
Good: threw some sprints in both a.m. and p.m.
Bad: up to my elbows in work, no lunch
Ugly: It was a beautiful day outside, and I couldn't go play. I wish work didn't get in the way of Important things.



Photo:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/benleto/ / CC BY 2.0

Note: this is not the photo my friend took. Just so you know.

Me & Douglas Adams

We're both 'mostly armless.'

What... who said this blog had to have good puns? I don't see that written down anywhere...

Anyway, the arms have stopped talking to me, which is good since their language was mostly unprintable, but I'm still playing it cautious and exercising below the ... well, I'm not using the arms if I can help it.

Exercise du jour: 30 minutes walking, 75 minutes bicycling. Maybe a 30 minute "relaxing" evening session with the yoga DVD; it's supposed to make me want to go to sleep. (Tried the 30 minute "energetic" morning session of yoga on Saturday, but since I'd had two cups of coffee just before doing the yoga stuff, not sure if the resulting energy can be attributed to the DVD.)

Done! Well, 40 minutes walking, no yoga, but still a total of 115 minutes exercising today.

Me, Hemingway, & the Venus de Milo

Thinking of having my arms surgically amputated. Seems like a good idea. Consider if you will the following facts:

• Hemingway became famous by writing Farewell to arms.
• The Venus de Milo has been a symbol of beauty for over 2,000 years, and never has to lift a finger to do anything.
• And neither of them completed the 100 push up challenge. Hmmmn...

Okay. Done whining now. For today.

Exercise du jour: 1 hour walking. The damn foot is starting to hurt after walking for 20 minutes, so I had to break it up a bit. Might need to consider amputating my foot as well as both arms. On the other hand, this might set a bad precedent... I mean, what if I get a headache?

Extraneous note: I read once that a man who'd made his money in the Gold Rush (mid-1800s) had a copy of the Venus de Milo statue sent by railroad to his new mansion. He sued the railroad company because when the statue arrived, the arms weren't complete. He won the lawsuit.

I wish I could track down that reference. I kind of hope the story is true.


Photo credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/eyesofrc/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Me & Marie Antoinette

Maybe it's just because I've been looking at my body lately, maybe it's because my waistband has been getting looser, but I am becoming obsessed with how friggin' huge my hips are. If I put on a low-cut dress and poofed my hair up to an insane height, then the resemblance would be absolutely uncanny.


It's not as if I've eaten any cake. Went to see a nutritionist, who said she couldn't see why I wasn't "wasting away" based on the amount of exercise vs. amount & quality of food eaten. Sadly, I'm going back to tracking my calories intake on Sparkpeople. The nutritionist and the doctor both suggested I needed to eat more protein.

[whine]
Sigh. Counting my calories is really boring.
[end whine]

I'm going to start tracking calories in/out.

I'm fairly sure I have a good idea of roughly how many calories per day I've been eating, and I'm going to bet that I've been keeping within the 1200-1500 calorie range for the most part. (Which for my height/weight/metabolism is not starvation level.)

Of course, it's that "for the most part" that's probably screwing me up. Or else the whacked-out thyroid really is screwing up my metabolism.

On Thursday, I started entering every nitpicking calorie eaten and exercised. Granted, Thursday was not a typical day, but by 8 p.m. I'd consumed 948 calories and exercised 841. I may have the occasional fall off the wagon, but even with an occasional (I'm talking not even once a week) meal of 'bad' food, I should be shifting the weight faster than I am. (For the past 8 weeks, I've been averaging a weight loss of 1/2 pound a week. That's pretty damn slow.)

Exercise update: After finishing the 4th week of the push up and sit up challenges, did 30 full push ups and 60 sit ups. (Okay, probably could have done more sit ups, but I got bored. Doing this sit up challenge is not endearing me to this form of exercise.)

Me and Nancy Reagan

Does that look like several hours' worth of gardening to you?
Look, just say 'yes,' okay?

Exercise du jour:

Week 4 of the (full) 100 push up challenge
Day 1
(90 seconds rest in between)
Set 1 - 18
Set 2 - 22
Set 3 - 16
Set 4 - 16
Set 5 - 25

Week 4 of the 200 sit ups challenge
(60 seconds rest in between)
Day 1
Set 1 - 27
Set 2 - 33
Set 3 - 24
Set 4 - 24
Set 5 - 38

Done! Day 1 of week 4, revisited

Me & Hugh Laurie

More excuses.
And why didn't you exercise yesterday, Mary?
Well, I bought a house.
Tsk. Not good enough. You'll have to come up with a better excuse that that.


It's a beautiful house, if that's any excuse.

I got very discouraged from having spent weekend after weekend looking at scruffy, depressing, even-with-a-lot-of-fixes-it'll-still-be-a-dump houses, then I walked into this house and fell in love. Makes me wonder if I gave up on dating too soon. Maybe I should hire a relationship broker and start touring fixer-upper style men?

Oh all right, so that's not a good enough excuse for getting distracted from exercising. I am glad that this week is over. Next week I'm going to go back to my regularly scheduled exercise. Nothing to worry about except the fact that I'm going to move in three weeks. Not sure if I should break open the champagne or go throw up.

Photo of my new house Castle Howard courtesy of flickr.

Me & Julius Ceasar

Veni, vidi, hmmn... I could keep going, actually.
- Julius Ceasar, upon completing his first lap around the three parts of Gaul.*

It wasn't that bad.

In fact, it could have been worse.

I'm not saying I like this running stuff, but this morning's run was not a Gauling experience. Shortened the amount of walking, increased the frequency of jogging, and survived okay.

Thankfully, after throwing a nasty wind storm tantrum yesterday, Mother Nature decided to make up for it with a calm, clear dawn. Freezing cold, but at least no trees were throwing any branches around.

After the warmup, jogged and walked 1 minute each for 24 minutes. (Tried 2/2 a couple of times, but didn't like it. Still an improvement on last week's 1/2 jog/walk ratio.) Thanks to Theresa for the lovely gold star!

*From Mary's Book of Curious, Spurious Quotations, CB Press, publication date uncertain. Quotation not verified by any sober and/or reputable historians.

Me, Lola, & PBS

Christina asked about tips on running. I’ve run twice now, so clearly I’m an expert on running for office fitness.

Oh all right.
All I know is what Theresa told me:

1. Wear the right shoes.
2. Wear a sports bra.*
3. Start out slower than you think you can.

(Not mandatory for most men.)

Does anyone else have any other tips for a beginner? I'd love to hear them.

So far, following the steps above has worked out well. I’m starting off with a very slow walk/jog schedule, which hopefully will let my knees adjust gradually to the new demands being placed on them. I also invested in a heart monitor/stopwatch thingie, so I can check whether I’m getting too little, too much, or the Goldilocks version of a workout.

I don’t know why, maybe it was all this $$ spent on exercise stuff, maybe it’s a delayed reaction to the uncertainties of house hunting, but last night for some reason I decided to have a bit of a panic attack. Jogging around the park in the dark was a useful way of dealing with anxieties, especially since I’m not sure how else to address the panic. (Still not sure why I was feeling panicked in the first place.) So I jogged a bit more than before, still slowly, and at least that way my heart rate was elevated for a healthy reason.

The Beginning Runner’s handbook has what seems to me to be some good advice:

• Don’t expect it to be fun at first.
• Train your mind as well as your body (psyche yourself).
• Don’t panic if you can’t keep to the schedule religiously, but don’t let the occasional slip up stop you in your tracks.

(Note: the rest of this post is a shameless promotion of PBS. But don't I segue into it neatly?)

******************************************************

Nova has gotten on the running bandwagon as well. To quote Kate Becker, from WGBH:

Six months ago, a team of rookies stepped to the starting line of the Boston Marathon. As members of Team NOVA, they were part of an experiment: a test to see what it takes to mold a batch of non-runners into a team of marathoners. Tune in Tuesday to find out how this diverse group of hopeful novices transformed physically and mentally to meet the challenge.

While you're waiting, why not click over to the Marathon Challenge Web site, http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/marathon, where you can meet Team NOVA and its coaching group, get training tips, and explore the physiology of fitness.


In case you’re in a country that doesn’t get Nova, she goes on to list other ways you can check out the action:

There are two podcasts and a vodcast scheduled to launch this week in conjunction with the show:

• * On Wednesday, meet Sama Elbannan, a 28-year-old novice whose "Oh, it's just a marathon!" attitude evaporates almost as soon as she laces up her shoes. Then elite runner Uta Pippig, advisor to Team NOVA, describes her philosophy on running in "Taking the Marathon Challenge," also hitting iTunes on Wednesday.
• * On Friday, "Coach Don" Megerle, director of the Tufts President's Marathon Challenge and a coach of Team NOVA, shares the adrenaline rush he gets from watching his runners achieve their marathon goals: "After the last person is finished crossing the line, it takes me several days to come down from that."

These 'casts are all available on iTunes. Or, visit our podcasting page to find out how to get them delivered directly to your computer: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/rss/podcasting.html.



I’ve got myself scheduled to run a marathon immediately after I start ice skating in Hell, but this program should help me to get mentally geared up to run any distance. Worth a try, anyway.

Me & Cary Grant

Anyone who's ever seen the movie "Suspicion" knows that technically this blog post should be titled "Me & Joan Fontaine," as Cary Grant’s character was the one causing the suspicion -- but Joan Fontaine's character was pretty dopey in this movie. And honestly, which one would you prefer to be linked with? Exactly.

What does Cary Grant have to do with looking for a house? Trust the Mary. There's a connection. Two connections, actually. Well, three. Looking for a house is a lot like looking for a mate or looking at a Cary Grant film: it can be romantic, or a comedy, or both. And it can create inside you a feeling of... suspicion...


Call me suspicious, but sorting through descriptions of houses awakens my inner paranoiac as well as irritating my inner editor:

• When they say “Act quickly, this home won’t last long” – do they mean “won’t stay long on the market”? Or are they really saying that it’s going to fall apart as soon as the deal is closed?
• Why would I want a home with a formal dinning room? I don’t like loud noises, formal or not.
• Why do they want me to know that a house is surrounded by a “picked fence”? Was each board selected with especially great care?

Found a bank that would be willing to loan me as much money as I’m comfortable borrowing. Bottom of the market, definitely, but there are a few houses out there all the same. Not too many.

The next step is to start interviewing house agents. Have no idea how to go about doing that, but we’ll see what happens. I think the best thing to do would be to pretend I have some idea what I’m doing. I mean, Cary Grant didn’t start out as Cary Grant. I’ll read up on it a bit. Must be documentation out there somewhere. Also, this would probably be a good time to practice being suave, debonair, and charming.

And for some reason this isn’t doing wonderful things for the waistline either. I’ve gained four pounds in the last three days. Clearly I need more stress in my life. (Note to God: I’m just kidding about that last bit. Honest.) Or maybe the BCB theory is correct, and unbeknownst I’m eating more food to compensate for abandoning my dog. (My mother is actually spoiling the dog rotten, and the dog seems to be lapping it up, but that’s not the point.)

Me & Jack Kerouac

Time to be on the road. Maybe I'll run into wonderfully creative characters disguised as penniless poets, fueled by angst and Benzedrine and spouting marvelous if disjointed tales that will eventually end up in City Lights in hardcover.



More probably I'll end up in the 'burbs visiting with family and thinking Positive Thoughts. Oh well. I can take it for a week. Probably.

Me, Marilyn Monroe, & Henry David Thoreau

"Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes."
- Henry David Thoreau

"It's not true that I had nothing on. I had the radio on."
- Marilyn Monroe




Putting these two quotations up here might seem like I'm suggesting popularizing exercising whilst nekkid. Bare Bear with me. I'm going somewhere with this. I think.

Yeah, I know, like I've got so much in common with Marilyn Monroe. Well, in a way I have. Both of us are known for our measurements -- Marilyn for her bodily dimensions, me for my inability to accurately calculate measurements. For instance, my daily lunchtime walk. It seemed like miles and miles and miles of walking. Turns out it was only mile and mile (and a bit). Pretty, I must say. But shorter than I'd expected and hoped.

My lunchtime walk takes me around the perimeter of the Nike World Campus. The company may have problems with their factories in Jakarta, but their home campus is nicely spread out over several acres, with ponds and woods and beautiful landscaping. Some parts of the campus, you'd think you were miles from anywhere -- if it weren't for the sounds of traffic coming from the busy roads that are hidden behind the trees. A woodchip path circles the perimeter. Map my ride allowed me to calculate that this perimeter and the walk I take to get to it and back to my office add up to just over 2.5 miles. Sigh. I thought it was loads more than that. I'll have to up the pace to get a decent workout, and that means making a few changes.

Like Henry David Thoreau, I came to a pond to get away from everything. The next step, pun intended, is to disregard ole Henry's advice and get me some fancy running shoes.

It has not escaped my attention that all those great fit people I've been reading online (see most of the Blog Roll) are all crazed fanatical lovely, dedicated runners. The only cyclist in the bunch (aside from the amazing Heather, who I could only keep up with if I had a motorcycle) is Fat girl on a bike, and even she has started running. It's a conspiracy. Either that or it's a form of exercise that gets people fit more than it destroys their knees.

Either way, I figure I need a new pair of shoes before I start even the most tentative little jog. I understand that the best thing to do is go to a fancy running store, where crazed fanatical dedicated salesmen will fit me with the perfect shoe for my perfect feet. My only worry is that the salesmen might decide I simply must buy a pair of Adidas or some brand like that. That would be even worse than having nothing on but the radio. I might end up getting barred from my lunchtime walk.