Update: I am irony’s plaything.

So finally, after trying to talk myself out of it at least ten times, I went to the doctor about my hip.  The ironic thing is that I haven’t had a burning desire to workout in months and months. 

So I let the hip injury thing slide, because in terms of day-to-day activities it really didn’t bother me.  Sure, if I turned my hip a certain way, or attempted to lift something funny I would get a sharp pain.  Mostly though, it didn’t bother me and I forgot it was an issue.  Did I also mention I loath going to the doctor?

However, inspired by all the people in Tejas running about, cycling, hiking, etc, I have been dying to begin my workouts again. I am so ready people!! Ready to take up my athletic pursuits, ready to reclaim my muscle and stamina!!!

Except, accord to Dr. M, I am at least 6 weeks away from doing any of those things.

Dear Irony,

I hate being your plaything.

Love, Me

I officially have a hip flexor strain, which is going to require ~6 weeks of stretching and strengthening before I am ready to tackle anything more strenuous than walking.  Bleh. Before anyone suggests that I take up swimming again,  or upper body strength training, please believe me when I say that I know I have options.  I am just taking a moment to savor the irony that just when I am ready to take up running and cycling again, my body is not.  (Also, my mother and best friend have already taken great pleasure in pointing out I should have seen the doctor in Nov. and this would be a non-issue. Yes, thank you, I know.)

I am looking into a personal trainer who can help me train around the injury. For now, I am off to stretch and take some anti-inflammatories. Wish me luck, and wish those around me patience.

Why goals suck.

I am shooting for something unheard of on this blog, a short post. Take a moment for a sigh of relief

Generally I think my posts fall on the side of sunshine but today is not that day. Today I want to discuss why goals suck.  Sure, sure, all those self-help gurus out there talk about why we should make goals, why we should make lists, why we should prioritize…blah, blah, blah.  What don’t they tell you? That goals will sometimes lead you to have to go into uncomfortable territory.

Like the doctor’s office.

I loath the doctor, every time I go it involves poking, prodding, needles and paper towel nightgowns.  So what’s the dealio?? Well, during my foray into CrossFit I did something to my hip. That something prevents doing squats of any kind, and especially weighted squats. Trust me when I say that is like the kiss of death to just about any CrossFit workout.

Did I mention I injured myself in November? and still am unable to do squats on a consistent basis??  Yes, I am like 3 years old and avoid my doctor like she has a contagious disease (no pun intended).  Except I got a very long lecture from a very good friend from High School who is studying to be a physical therapist. The unfortunate part to having old friends is that they know every excuse before you even throw them out, and they call you on your BS.   So she told me that I am forbidden from starting a kick butt workout with a new gym that marries kettle bells and CrossFit until my doctor gives me the thumbs up.

See? Setting a new workout goal is just leading me to the doctor’s office and the potential of paper towel night gowns.  (In my friend’s defense she didn’t really forbid me so much as give me 8 million reasons why I am being a baby, and how I could just end up injuring myself further if I don’t get it checked.)

So I am setting up an appointment, but I refuse to be happy about it. Commence pouting.

My advice for developing minds :)

In two weeks I am headed to my alma mater for my bi-annual visit.  (Does anyone else struggle with whether bi-annual means twice a year…or every two years? I mean twice a year for clarification).  It’s a fabulous 4 hour drive through the flattest, most boring part of Texas to get there.  I would even settle for seeing cows once in awhile. All I ever see is the highway, trees, and miles of flat, flat grass. Generally I set my iPod to shuffle, grab a diet coke, and violently wish the drive was over before I am even 10 miles into it.

Yeah, I am a joy to roadtrip with too

Anyway I am off to do my mentoring thing as part of my duties for the board of my graduate school program. (Yes, I know, for some reason they let me mentor, I realize that sounds scary.) Every year in the spring they ask me the same question, “If you could give the students any piece of advice, what would it be?”

I usually spend weeks trying to decide how to answer that question, and not because I am worried about what nugget of wisdom I will share.  Mostly it takes me weeks to get through all my immature answers. (I figure telling them that they should learn how to take a nap in their car during their lunch break isn’t the kind of advice they are looking for.)

This year, however, it has been easier to find an answer of a more serious nature.  If I had to give the past year a theme it would be, “Change” and for the most part life has been in a constant state of flux for the past 12 months. I would detail the change here, but honestly it’s boring Corporate/Life stuff that would take paragraphs and wouldn’t even interest my mother. (Poor woman has had to hear about it all once already). 

My advice to the students is going to be related to the fact that I have lived through a year of flux. In the Corporate world we talk constantly about the power of being flexible, and being able to change direction without losing motivation or enthusiasm.  I won’t disagree with that assesment, but it is an incomplete picture. 

Here is the missing piece: Change is exhausting.

I don’t know why no one talks about that part, but change will drain you if given the chance. The advice I plan on sharing with the students? Find that something (or really, I would suggest a list of somethings) that bring you back to center, and provides a cushion against the crazy you are battering yourself against on a daily basis. If you don’t you will burn yourself out. Note that I am not saying there is a chance, or you might burn yourself out, I am telling you that it will happen.

My list? It’s actually pretty simple, but it’s what works for me:

1. I need a clean apartment. If my life is crazy, I need home to be clean and serene…or as serene as it can with kittens hanging off the ceiling fan.

2. Get a massage

3. Light workout

4. Paint my toenails a wacky color, they are still bright green for St. Patrick’s Day.

5. Call a friend

Do you know what your list is? If not, spend some time on figuring it out, I promise it is time well spent.

Everyone has a role to play.

I feel like in life we all have a role to play, and for the most part depending on what part of your life the role will vary.  With my family I am the oldest, you want someone to solve a problem (without yelling?) that would be my role. Want an ear to vent to? I’m your girl.  You want help with grammar or math?? Find someone else.

At work I have roles too (Hello youngest person on the entire floor role! Why yes, you are going to have to explain every reference you just made from the 70′s. I wasn’t alive.) My other role? That would be the random physical activity person/foodie. Case in point, three different from people sent me a link to the Warrior Dash race happening in Texas this year…and one asked me to do it with them. Check out the video below, and for the record I draw the line at jumping over fire. Ahem. Besides they already sold out…So I checked…argh I think I have a problem…

The point of the post? My new team is a snack team (awesome!!) and they heart their baked goods. I will neither confirm nor deny my boss makes to die for peanut butter cookies.  In fact my boss sent out a note today asking if she needed to pick up something crunchy/twiggy for me to snack on. (Super sweet to consider me, and we all sent out various e-mails joking back and forth.)

My response?

“I would like to state for the record that I do not eat tree bark for anyone out there wondering. Please don’t worry about picking up something special “

So initially I wasn’t going to bring anything special, I really am not picky. See vegetarian experiment and cross reference with Slurpees. However, I have a reputation to maintain people. Which led me to contemplate something easy/random to bring to my meeting on my way home to Krav tonight.

What did I settle on??

Only one of the most awesome root vegetables known to man: jicama. What is jicama you ask?? It’s what I eat I begin to worry my overconsumption of carrots is going to make me resemble a cast member of Jersey Shore (Who says you need cable to keep up on current events?). Jicama is also a popular snack in Mexico and a lot of times it is sold with lime juice and chili powder. I like mine plain, it has the texture of an apple but less sweet.

I have it pictured here whole and the cut up slices I am taking to work.  Also, note to self…it is SO time to read your camera manual…

My advice is that you should try it. I honestly believe that a lot of people hate vegetables because they never mix things up. I promise there are things out there besides cucumbers and squash (little brother I am looking at YOU.)

The hit to the head, and blog inspiration…

As much fun as it has been to talk about my foray into vegetarianism, and yoga…I am beginning to feel a bit granola on this blog.

Actually the revelation came to me on Tues. night while I was cutting up tofu to go in my Miso soup before I went to yoga. I have no problem eating tofu, and I love yoga, but some part of me started laughing hysterically.  Seriously people I am from TX, my father smokes the most amazing brisket and pork butt you have ever eaten, my brother is a member of the High School rodeo team, and every member of the family (except myself) owns a Carhartt jacket and a pair of cowboy boots. Well that last bit is sort of a lie, I do own cowboy boots somewhere, but they pinch my feet and I haven’t worn them in years.

I will say though that by nature I am not a granola kind of girl, even though my recent exploits and stories on this blog make it sound like I am. Not that I am hating, just that this blog makes the perception of me feel a little disingenuous. Which all that long-winded background (I am starting to sense a trend with my blog posts) is to talk about the hit to the head that started my blog inspiration.

As much as I adore Yoga it is more about helping my mental health than it is about fitness. Please don’t write me angry posts about Yoga being an amazing workout. Trust me, I know. I have been in many a Yoga class with screaming quads and shoulders, I know Yoga is a good workout. What I am saying is that I don’t go because it’s a workout, I go to help center myself when life gets a bit crazy.

My current favorite workout is Krav Maga and it was the cause of my infamous head injury that started this blog. If you don’t know what Krav Maga is, the best explanation I have come up with to date is that it’s an Israeli hand to hand combat/self-defense technique. Kinda like Karate without the whole white pajama thing.  Actually, in terms of technique it isn’t comparable to Karate or Tae Kwon Do. Krav Maga is more like Karate’s practical cousin, what it doesn’t have in beauty it makes up for in efficiency. It’s about protecting yourself, and making sure that any threat to your person is defused as quickly as possible. **For the record these are my words and observations and  do not necessarily reflect the opinions of any accrediting body.

Most days I leave Krav with minor bruises, some stretching down my forearms or on my shins (Hello blocking practice!).  Every once in a while I come away with a split knuckle (note to self: watch the little training partners, they’re far more deadly than they originally appear.) However, this blog started when I took an elbow to the temple that left me goose egg, and a lingering yellow bruise that made me look like I had jaundice of the temple for two weeks. This is what happens when you work out with over enthusiastic males who forget how crowded the mat is.

After consulting the mirror I had two conversations, one with C (friend from college) and one with my mother:

1st Convo:

Me: I got elbowed in the head tonight

C: What?!?! Awesome, think you are going to have a bruise tomorrow to show off?

Me: Well I already have a goose egg, and it’s turning purple

C: Let me tell you about my forearms they are totally bruised up from this block we practiced yesterday…(Did I mention my C also does Krav Maga, it was my idea, I think I created a monster)

2nd Convo:

Me: I got elbowed in the head tonight.

Mom: Are you okay?

Me: Just a goose egg and a bruise.

Mom: You pay to do this?????

Me: Yep, and I love it too.

Mom: You are sick.

The next day my co-workers informed me they were going to start taking bets on what kind of injury I came to work with next. I am not sure if the betting pool settled on a broken nose or misc. bruising but regardless they informed me they are starting an intervention if I find anything more crazy than Krav Maga to attempt.  All this is to say that any athletic endeavor I attempt usually ends in laughing for others, and various injuries for me.  Hence the blog to share the wackiness, and because I believe that being active is about finding something you love, not being a slave to the dreadmill.  Enjoy the process, remember not to take yourself too seriously, and if you are ever concerned about looking like a fool send me a note. I guarantee any fear of potential embarrassment you have, I can top with an actual story.  My training mantra is No Shame, and yours should be too.

Grateful for the stomach flu.

In the past four days my diet has consisted of sherbert, saltines, ginger ale and Gatorade.  It almost makes me want to re-build the food pyramid for the times when you are sick. 

Is that slurpees at the top? Yes it is. I am letting you guys in one of my favorite beverages for tummy problems, coca-cola slurpees. The soda is flat to sooth your tummy, the ice helps with fever, and the um spoon straw is just awesome. Oh come on, everyone loves a spoon straw. Don’t deny it!

I do have a semi-point to this post, a lesson if you will.  One of the scariest things about being so ill is the total body weakness that goes with the package. (I had to take a nap after climbing the stairs for instance.) I post this because today I was meandering about (wee! I can walk again) and I heard some women discussing their bodies in a way that made me so sad. I won’t go into the details, we all know the kind of conversation I am talking about (well, those of you with XX chromosomes. For those of you with XY chromosomes it’s the I have fat thighs, or look at this jiggle, etc, etc.)  

It reminded me of a training mindset a running coach passed my way that I absolutely love.  My coach told me that when we run it isn’t about the run being torture, or how much longer until I can quit, or my feet hurt, or my butt looks big in spandex.  Instead when we run we remind ourselves that is a privilege to have a body that allows us to get up and participate in a sport. We are grateful to run hills because it makes us strong, we are grateful to run sprints to make us fast, we are grateful to run at 5:15am because we get to enjoy the day before most other people.

My coach didn’t mean that running, like life, doesn’t come with places where you would rather just quit. The difference is that sometimes you have to re-orient your mind, and the way you think.

So today I decided that I am grateful to you stomach flu.

(I would also be grateful if you didn’t visit again anytime soon, and if I could please eat something on the normal food pyramid soon.)

Shiitake mushrooms smell awful, and other fun lessons

Well my vegetarian week is almost up and I thought it would be an excellent time to post important lessons for others interested in eschewing their meat-eating ways.

1. Shiitake mushrooms smell all kinds of awful. My fridge has taken on a slightly funky odor and I am resting the blame on the mushrooms.

2. When making miso soup, don’t just throw in the mushrooms and heat up the water. What do you get? Shiitake flavored water…no amount of any ingredient can salvage the soup after that.

3. Tofu isn’t so bad. It kinda tastes like plain noodles…or pancakes after you cook it. What? I have strange food analogies and I offer no apologies.

4. Kittens will eat tofu, which is kinda handy when you drop some on the floor.

5. Pay attention when co-workers/friends/family are choosing lunch time restaurants. The chances of you finding anything at a Tex Mex restaurant or Chick- fil-A that is vegetarian, and will hold you till dinner, are nill.

6. You still get points for ordering the only thing on the menu at a Tex Mex restaurant that should be vegetarian. It isn’t your fault that bean soup apparently comes with an entire order of bacon in the soup for flavoring.

7. Find websites that can help you navigate the tricky waters of preparing things like Okonomi (Japanese Pizza) and anything with lentils. My new favorite websites? www.101cookbooks.com, and teaandcookies.blogspot.com

8. If you decide to become a vegetarian that still eats eggs and dairy (Lacto ovo vegetarian) then you should tell all your friends and family. This way they can plan to buy stock in the nearest egg (farmer?) because you are eating so many eggs that it is a sound investment for the people in your life you love.

9. When family/friends ask why you are eating a chicken wrap (at Chick-fil-A…the place they chose) mumble around your food that you decided to become a flexitarian. Offer no explanation as to what that means, just say it with confidence and gusto. If they continue to pester you distract them with the suggestion of ice-cream.

Aaaaaaaand the last tip, well originally I had nine but that felt wrong not to figure out another one, is:

10. If someone advises you include Kombucha tea in your vegetarian week you should be warned about the taste.  It is kind of like if sparkling water raised the love child of strawberries and vinegar.  Tasty but very, very, very different.

Barbie beats out vegetarianism.

For anyone who hasn’t spent more than 5 seconds around me I would like to say for the record I am a tomboy. I have been a tomboy since my wee tyke days, and as far as I know my mother only possesses one picture of me in a dress when I was baby. (It is also SO incredibly frilly, it’s like she was trying to jam pack all her little girl dress ambitions on me in one outfit).  In case you doubt my early tomboy days I was a Ninja Turtle kind of girl, and I had sheets and beach towels to prove it. Not to get off task but I would also like someone to explain to me what the heck April is supposed to be wearing.

Having prefaced with all that information I want to tell you about my first attempt at vegetarianism. Originally I had planned on starting on Friday, and I made it through most of the day easily. The only problem is that I woke up with a sore throat that spiraled into fever/chest congestion/general ickiness.  I made it home from work Friday night and had just enough energy to scour my pantry for something to eat. What did I find? A can of Barbie chicken noodle soup.

My mother stocked my pantry after the stomach flu incident of ’09, and she has a wicked mean sense of humor. Mom also denies buying said can of Barbie chicken noodle soup until I reminded her that there is no way in heck I would ever buy such a thing. I have dignity dang it, I would have at least gone with Spiderman or something.

Vegetarians, the cool kids…

Does anyone else feel like vegetarians (or the super vegans/raw foodists) are kind of like the cool kids in the high school of healthy eating these days? Sometimes I feel embarrassed to admit that I eat dead animals. This week I decided that it was high time to try a new adventure of the non-flesh eating kind, vegetarianism

Does that sound as gross as I think it does?

On a side note, while I was doing research on being a vegetarian I wasn’t aware of the wide spectrum of possibilities (Vegetarianism…like the Baskin-Robbins of the food world…so many flavors to choose from!). In fact, I found out that there is something called a pesco pollo vegetarian, which is someone who doesn’t eat red meat. For the record, while I am generally not someone who judges other peoples’ labels, why do you call yourself a pesco pollo vegetarian? Don’t people just look at you funny when you say that, why not just say, “I don’t eat red meat?” Strange, strange.

Here is the link if you want to do further research, one day when I figure out how to insert a link into text I will be much smoother at including this kind of info and maybe a little cooler too: http://www.dummies.com/how-to/content/the-different-kinds-of-vegetarians.html

Now there are a few hiccups in my grand scheme, one being that I struggle to get enough protein in my diet as a general rule. I will neither confirm, nor deny that I have a love affair with carbs of the bread variety. I figure initial enthusiasm will overcome those kind of small road blocks, and I am officially ready to begin my adventure and explore strange new territory, like lentils. (Maybe the word adventure and lentils should not be used in the same sentence…)

I will keep you appraised of my progress, no doubt this should be interesting.  By the way, what the heck is kale? And why does everyone keep baking cupcakes and brownies with beans and beets?

How not to do Yoga…

I just took up yoga for the first time ever, and I love it. Yes, I am going on record as loving yoga, and somewhere deep inside my yoga cynic is screaming for mercy. As with most athletic activities I take up, I am best at giving advice on how not to do things. Today I want to talk about how your mindset should NOT be for yoga.

Let me back up a wee bit though and explain that I currently share my apartment with two kittens. Since I have decided that cats don’t come when you call them, I have given up completely on referring to them by name unless I am speaking to another human being. In fact, depending on the destruction they have wrought in our home, I sometimes refer to them as Demolition and Derby…and sometimes I refer to them as obscenities my mother would be appalled to know are part of my vocabulary. I digress to explain this because my yoga story will make no sense unless I explain that living with kittens is like dying the death of 1,000 cuts. Loud noises, sudden movement, and apparently light breathing is enough to send either kitten flying off the handle, claws fully extended. Usually I am in the way, usually they take of chunk of me with them.

Having said that I attended my first 90 minute hot yoga class yesterday. I have done a few introductory classes but I was really excited to do yoga with legit, bendy people.  In terms of mindset for Yoga, the instructor talked about being competely focused in the moment and engaging whatever muscle/foot/joint required to hold the posture for the specificied time. 

What I didn’t expect was that the hot yoga class would open up some kitten induced wounds that led me to bleeding all over the yoga towel. Now, in hot yoga they tell you not to leave the room because you could pass out if you haven’t cooled down first. So the entire class consisted of me hopping around to put as little pressure on the kitten wound as possible and the ongoing chant inside my head of, “Don’t bleed on the mat, don’t bleed on the mat, don’t bleed on the mat…”

The entire time I am hopping about the instructor is speaking in soothing tones, reminding everyone to focus on the posture, focus on the being present in the moment,  focus on breathing, etc.  My inner Yoga cynic kept responding with, “Focus? What focus? Woman I am trying not to bleed on your mat!” On the downside not really the Yoga mindset, on the upside at least I didn’t mutter any of it out loud.

 Needless to say that enlightened, yoga nirvana never really materialized…