Surviving The Super Bowl aka "The Toilet Flusher"

My friend Millie's daughter Olivia calls one of the water slides at our local water park the "Toilet Flusher".  I think the proper name for this attraction is the Super Bowl and it rises above the park, a huge, circus-like bowl decked in pink and yellow stripes that you plunge into after climbing up to a height of 35 to 40 feet and then shooting down a slide on your tube.

The "Toilet Flusher"

Saturday Millie and I, along with our families and friends, were enjoying our company's family fun day at the water park, bobbing along in the wave pool without a care.  It was a beautiful day and I was planning on spending the majority of my time in that spot, broken up by a few trips on the lazy river and maybe a round of laser tag or two.

I had planned on leaving the water slides to everyone else since I hadn't been down one since I was a kid and had no plans at all of rectifying that. Just looking up at those heights made my stomach flip over because, despite the water sliding, roller coaster riding dare devil I was as a child, the adult me is quite the chicken when it comes to that stuff.  Shoot, two years ago when I was at my heaviest, I was scared to go up or down stairs. I've gotten over that I'm proud to say, but at the same time, they weren't getting me on a water slide, oh no.

Or so I'd planned.  After a few rounds of riding up and down waves in the pool, our group decided it was time to go ride the Toilet Flusher and that I was coming too, and also that they weren't going to take "no" for an answer.   Caught up by the crowd, I left the pool and grabbed a tube, trying to think of a way out the whole way over to the slide.    Should I slip off and ditch them? No, they're surrounding me and they know I'm a flight risk.  Won't work.  Should I fake a medical emergency?  No.  I want to enjoy the rest of my day here at the water park, not in an ambulance or hospital.  Should I flat out refuse to budge?  Hmm. That doesn't seem likely as my husband and Millie are even more strong-willed and stubborn than I am.  And those two lunatics were insisting that I get over my fears and ride this ride.

Up we climbed slowly in the crowded tower to the top of the ride.  With each step my panic grew.  I kept asking questions to Eric and Millie like, "Do you see some bolts missing on this thing?"  "Is it completely dark in that tube?"  "What would happen if I fall off of my float?"  "Is it possible to get stuck in the tube?"  "Is this tower sturdy?  These boards look sketchy." And on and on.  Oh and I broke my questions up with a chorus of "I don't want to do this."

At one point I looked down at Millie from several steps above her with sheer terror on my face and she said, "You can do this.  Trust me.  Look at you, you wouldn't have even climbed these stairs a year and a half ago and look at you now!" I looked up at my husband and he said, "Sweetheart you can do this. You'll be fine." Finally, with the resolve to be brave, and the glass of wine they bribed me with after the ride was finished (provided I survived), I made my way to the top of the tower.  Refusing to look down, I focused on the mouth of the tube and the carefree way that everyone, but yours truly and a couple of six year olds, was jumping on their floats and riding on down.   Then it was my turn.  I got situated on my float and the lifeguard gave me a push.

Suddenly I was rocketing down the slide faster than I'd prepared myself for, volleying up and down the tube as I descended, clinching onto my float for dear life and just knowing I was going to flip out of it at any minute.  Next I was spat out into the bowl where I was cycloned around and around (screaming "I hate this!" at the top of my lungs) before flying into another hole and down another chute until I was blessedly spat back out into the lazy river.  I'd like to say I felt exhilerated and ready to go again, and I'd like to say that I didn't call my friends and husband the word that means "a person whose parents aren't married", but that wouldn't be the truth now would it?

Well, I survived the Toilet Flusher and even though it didn't turn me back into a water slide junkie, I was proud of myself that I did what I couldn't have and wouldn't have a year and a half ago.   And it was a great day with a lot of calories burned swimming, walking, climbing stairs, running around in laser tag and standing in line for thirty minutes to ride go karts.  At least enough to burn off the soft pretzel I ate because hey, we all deserve a treat now and then.

My Workout Video Shoot or Pitta In Balance

Last night I got the opportunity to "co-star" in a yoga video my friend and "second momma," Pam, was making as part of her yoga certification, along with my sister and future sister-in-law.  It was a really great opportunity to help out a friend while at the same time getting some personalized yoga instruction.  I've taken a few yoga classes but I'm always the one at the back of the crowd (for my first experience click here) and I've never had anyone correct me (much needed) on what I'm doing.

I like to think by now that I know my way pretty well around the gym and have a good knowledge base on what I'm doing. When it comes to yoga though, I am a fish out of water.  I have a hard time getting the breathing correct (Pam says I am used to more athletic, strong breathing) and I have never ever been able to meditate.  My mind is always churning from the time I wake up until my head hits the pillow, and sometimes afterwards.  In fact Pam, who's known me since before I was born, told me that, to use yoga terms, I have a pitta personality.  According to Yahoo, "Pitta in balance is often competitive, assertive, self confident, passionate. They are people who like to be in charge and doing things. Pitta in Balance has the power and energy to transform your life and the lives of others, but must be balanced to do so without 'burning out'".

Hmm. Well here's the high lights of  my pitta brain works through an hour and a half of yoga: 

• Okay, we're starting with our eyes closed and Pam reading us some poetry.  Wait, I know this poem.  It's Pablo Neruda. He's encouraging us to spend some time with our minds, delving down deep.  Hmm. That's a scary possibility for me.  Don't go there, quick think of an episode of Jersey Shore.
• Down into plank.  I've done thousands of planks I think.   Remember the time in the gym we were doing planks and you thought it would  be hilarious if there was a charity drive called Planks for Skanks?  And then you thought it would be even funnier if there was one called Burpees for Herp - stop that thought right there and concentrate on your breathing.  Everyone else is reverent and meditative and you are about to ruin this nice video by laughing and falling on your face.
• Into pigeon pose.  I will not modify this position even though Pam says it's okay to.  I will do this pigeon pose even if I can't get back out of it. Wait, wait...I've got it!  Yay for karate and loosened up hips.
• Now for bridge pose.  Pam says some folks can't do this and it's okay to modify.  I will do this pose if it kills me.  Wait, I'm supposed to be relaxed.  I'm relaxing, I'm relaxing...relaxing down into bridge pose...I will hold this until she says stop.  I will not quit.  Wait! I did it! Yay! Okay, I can relax and meditate now.  Nope, can't do that and hold the pose at the same time.   
• Okay, we're down on our backs, relaxing at the end of a great yoga workout.  Pam says to relax and close our eyes.  The music happily trinkles.  We are supposed to go to our "happy place" and completely relax.  Wait!  What is my happy place?   White Lake with my cousins when we were kids?  The beach, laid out in a tidal pool on a sunny day?  Or is it my own private, unlimited shopping spree at the mall?  Or is it the mineral pool at the Grove Park Spa?  It's definitely a body of water and a sunny day somewhere...What is my happy place and why do I have so much panic trying to call it up on the spot?  I am supposed to be relaxing.  Look at Carolyn over there, she's almost asleep.  
• Okay, clear cool water.  Me floating in it.  Sunny skies.  Good music.  The husband.  Imagine the refreshing coolness all around you...ears under the water hearing only the woosh of the pool filter.  Huh, whatta you know?  I'm relaxed.  I know my body is here but I'm not feeling it.  It actually worked!  She's reading Neruda again and I'm floating.  Ah, so this is what it's like.  Slowly we get each body part moving again and I sit up, completely in a state of blissful relaxation. Maybe this pitta can balance herself after all.

Staircase Challenge

It used to be that when people at work would tell me about doing the stairs, basement to roof, for exercise, I'd look at them like they'd grown three heads.   In my former state, I couldn't have even imagined going up to my desk (at the time located on the fourth floor), much less going all the way from the basement to the roof...that was fourteen and a half floors for crying out loud.  In fact, one day I was home sick from work and heard from a friend that the elevators weren't working.  I sighed in relief because at the time, I had no idea what I would have done had I been in the office that day.  That friends, is a problem...when your physical being has the potential of holding you back from doing something critical, like your job.  Thank goodness I've been delivered from that!

That being said, when Dana challenged Rick and I to join he and his group doing the stairs as part of a workout, I was hesitant.  I figured that I was able, and I've pretty much conquered my much documented (at least on this blog) fear of stairs, but fourteen and a half flights seemed daunting.  But, like any writer, I figured it would give me some material and I also had the itching curiosity to see if I could do it.  And God bless Rick, he said he'd do it too.

Dana, Rick, James and I headed out of the gym and to the first set and a half of stairs... the ones from the gym to the first floor  No problem.  I've done these stairs a bunch in the year and a half I've had of conquering my fear of stairs.   When I first began, my trainer would hold my hand going up and down the first five of them, and now I scaled them easily.  One and a half down right? This should be no problem.

Down the hall we went and over to the back stair case. Okay this stairwell was narrower and might I mention hot.  But no worries, I had my water bottle with me.   Up we went from one to two, and then from two to three, and then from three to four.  Woo hoo!  First hurdle cleared: I was officially past the point of being scared I couldn't get to where my old desk was on the fourth floor.   Jubilation! Elation! I'm Rocky running up the stairs...

Until floor five.  I could hear Dana and James way above Rick and I, and Rick was a good flight ahead of me.  And that was when it felt like the air was beginning to run out.   "Why is it so stifling in here?" I asked Rick.  "Well there's no a/c in here and less air in case of fire" he replied.  Okay...so one more element to this challenge.

Up one more flight of stairs to six.  Ah, just beyond that stairwell door was my lovely desk with it's air condition and cushioned chair.  It was tempting but I kept going.  On to seven.  Okay, the sweat was running down my back and I had to stop a minute for some water. 

Floor eight.  Calves are burning, air is stifling, Dana and James were out of sight but Rick was right ahead of me and for that I kept going.  On up to nine and the realization came that on each floor was an exit door that led to a hallway with an elevator that would end all of this craziness if I chose. I looked longingly at the door but Rick was just ahead of me still going and I was determined.

Floor ten.  I used to sit on floor ten and quite frankly I thought the elevator ride up to it was pretty long. I used to hope and pray that we didn't have a fire drill during the time my desk was there because I didn't want to endure going down ten floors, much less the climb up. Dana and James passed on their way down and I had to give Dana his props at being the harder "trainer" for the day. And up again I went.

On to the eleventh.  I start imagining dying on the stairs outside eleven.  Millie sits on this floor. Would she find my lifeless body at the base of the stairs?  I could almost hear the call over the intercom, "Emergency Response Team to the stairwell.  Repeat, ERT to the stairwell." 

Telling myself I was being dramatic again, I climbed up to twelve, and then finally to thirteen...the roof and the end of the climb.  Rick and I paused for a second to catch our breathe and grin at each other.  Up until this moment, we'd doubted ourselves with each step.  Now we just had to get back down.

The return trip was a heck of a lot easier, and we could even carry on a conversation with each other during the descent.  Soon we were back in the gym and even managed to get on not only the elliptical but the treadmill too to finish our workout.

As we were stretching out and cooling down, I looked at Rick and said, "I can't believe we just did that!  That was awesome!  We need to do that once a week!"

"Okay..." Rick said, "But I'm only doing it once a week."

No argument out of me there buddy.

Learning To Sail My Ship

After a week of off and on rain and thunderstorms, we were blessed with a beautiful day today.  Sunny skies and a gentle breeze graced our coast and I headed out to Topsail Island to my family's beach house with the top of my car down and my hair in the breeze.   It helped to soothe my spirits which had been unsettled mid-week when our trainers announced that we as a group had not been as compliant with the program objectives in this first week of our new challenge as they expected us to be, and thus if our performance doesn't improve in this coming week our program would be canceled early.

This announcement brought with it the expected wave of emotions throughout the group and it weighed heavy on my heart.  Having graduated from the initial round of the program six months ago, I have now become used to doing this on my own, but I have been looking forward to working with the current group, gaining a possible bonus month back with my trainers, and being accountable on the scale again.  This news also made me fearful for my friends in the program who are newer in their transformation journey than I am, wondering what this would do for their self confidence.

Sitting on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean today in a tidal pool that Mother Nature had so graciously made for us, my sister, future sister-in-law and I were rocked back and forth with the crashing tides. It was all you could do just to keep your seat, so to speak.  The waves kept knocking us around and I finally took to making a crab-like death grip with my legs and arms sunk down into the sand. It was then that I realized that I wasn't just out "turtleing" in the water on a nice summer day, I was getting a workout.   I also reflected back to a time in my life when I was so much heavier and unable to walk from our sound-side beach house to our beach walkover and down onto the shore because I was in such bad shape.  These past two summers of a healthier me have been amazing and every time I'm on the beach, I look around me at our beautiful surroundings and know that I will never again take it for granted.   It is a blessing that I revel in.  It was as I had these thoughts today that I realized more clearly that I ever have in this journey my own strength and willpower and the fact that come what may in our program at the gym, I will be successful and I am able to stand on my own.    For months during the end of our first program and immediately afterward I worried that I wouldn't be successful when left to my own devices, but my friends and I have proven that we can do this.

It is inevitable that the tide is going to rise.  It is a guarantee that calm seas will again turn turbulent with waves that crest overhead and an undertoe that looms to drag you away from your current location.  Sunny skies can swell with angry clouds in a matter of minutes.  It is this way in nature and this way with long term endeavors, but to quote Louisa May Alcott, "I am not afraid of storms,  for I am learning how to sail my ship."

Reviving Motivation

It's funny how something comes along at just the right time when you need a battery re-charge.  That is what working with Rick to accomplish our fitness goals has been for me.   It's fun to think up workouts that will not only challenge him, but me as well, and to eat as clean as possible so that I'm doing exactly what I ask of him.   This new chapter of my journey came along at a time when I needed to be held more accountable and get stricter on what I eat.  I was never back to eating Doritos on the couch, my personal metaphor for going back to bad ways, but I had allowed myself too many treats here and there at fun summertime events.  And lo and behold, after buckling down the scale was my friend again and I dropped four pounds at this weeks' weigh-in.   This got me thinking about motivational re-charges and the hard task of bringing back the magic so to speak when you feel you've lost it and don't have any idea of how to get it back.  

Walking up the hill from the parking deck to my office this morning, I was suddenly struck with a memory of myself, 104 pounds ago, struggling up this short distance, winded, feeling like I was walking through sinking sand, struggling for breath from a very short walk up just a slight incline.  In fact back in those days, I would have to stop a the halfway point, feigning looking through my purse for something or answering a phantom phone call so that my coworkers wouldn't know that I was just too worn out to finish a walk that was just a matter of a few yards. It was during that time that I stopped going out to lunch with people because I didn't want to make that "trek" more than I had to during the course of the day.  Now I don't go to lunch because I'm in the gym and I've done three 5Ks.  Now I walk in in the morning and don't think twice about my easy stride and steady breathing.   It seems wild to think about that other state of being now. But, sometimes in order to find motivation when we are lacking, it pays to look back and realize how far we've come.

It's way too easy to slide back into old behaviors if you don't keep on your toes.  It happens not with a bang, but little by little until all of a sudden you "wake up" in a state where you're breathless trying to walk into the office.  Trust me, I've been there and done that and I am determined never to go back to that bad place again.   Not that I don't have my times of doubting or wane in motivation.   We all get frustrated, angry or down.  We all find ourselves at the gym some days not feeling it.  We all look at a piece of cake, or some french fries, or a box of donuts and think to ourselves, "why not this one time?"  If you feel your resolve or motivation waning, here are a few things that have worked for me:

• Imagining the way I felt at my heaviest and how polar opposite life is now.
• Finding someone I want to catch up with and working out with them.  Good gossip makes the time go by.
• When I'm feeling frustrated I find my angriest music and take my aggressions out on the punching bag.  It's great cardio and helps the mental state as much as it does the waist line.
• Making short term goals.
• Feeling the way my clothes feel now and remembering how uncomfortable I used to feel.
• Writing, whether its on this blog or in a journal.
• Finding someone like Rick that I can be accountable to and who can be accountable to me.
• Shaking up my workout with something I like (like karate or a game like workout poker) that feels like fun and not like work.
• Remembering the past, the aches and the pains that are no longer a part of my life.
• Enjoying the present and the awesome spot I am in today, even though I'm not at my goal yet.
• Imagining the future and how I will feel and what I will do when I get to my goal.

Finding motivation and keeping it going is often hard and something we all struggle with whether we have five, fifty or one hundred pounds to lose.  We get frustrated, down on ourselves, mad at ourselves or others...all of which are deadly triggers that have the potential to derail us or even make us want to jump off our path to our goals.  During these times sometimes the best route to motivation and determination is to simply fake it until you make it.  It's a tired old saying yes, but if you do it long enough...it definitely works. 

I Didn't Want to Write This Post

I almost didn't write this post.  In fact, I've been contemplating it, writing it, erasing it, shaking my head and writing it again.  No one likes to admit defeat...least of all me.  I like to bee bop along in my positive bubble where my workouts are always great and the scale is ever my friend.  I don't want to admit that sometimes the scale doesn't always go down and sometimes it goes up and some times I feel tired and some times I feel like I really can't do this at all.   I don't want to admit these things because these are the things I fear.  I fear that slip in judgement now and again because I'm so totally terrified of going back to my old ways...like it's some inevitable black hole that churns out there, waiting to swallow me in.  I hold myself to the insane standards of your typical Type A, carrying on a mental battle of the rule of 100%...either I'm all in, or I'm all out.  Either I'm eating perfect every day, or I'm eating bad every day. 

It is with this mindset that I approached the scale today for the baseline weigh-in for our new challenge.  There was the same scale that exalted me to new heights several months ago, and there was my trainer with his pen and paper ready to record what I knew was not going to make me happy.  I wasn't the only one of us "veterans" that felt this way.  When our program ended, those of us still at it today did great with our workouts, even going above and beyond the things we did in the program, but we got disorganized about our weigh-ins, some of us stopping weighing in all together and while it's liberating to concentrate on fitness rather than being a slave to that box in the corner of the gym that flashes up numbers that can make or break you, you have to have accountability too. In my case, we've had a couple of months of really awesome weekends and while I've been pushing harder than ever in the gym, I've let myself have too good of a time with what I eat.

So...the scale was up a little bit, and I spent the rest of the afternoon kicking myself, doubting myself, and generally feeling hateful in my own skin.  Then, because it plays 50 times an hour, the Gym Class Heroes song "The Fighter" came on the radio and I started listening to the lyrics.  I started thinking about Rocky, one of my favorite movie characters, and how many times he took a beat down and got back up.  He might have been staggering, bloody, and drunkenly calling "Adrian" but he went the distance...even in the last Rocky movie where he tells his son, "It ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward."   Then I thought about the advice I'd give anyone in the same situation which is: shake it off, do better, and keep going.  After all, how silly is it of me to expect perfection out of myself?  How idiotic to think things are 100% one way or the other? I'd never judge someone else against those parameters, so why was I doing that to myself?  Isn't it that kind of thinking that always held me back in the past?  Isn't that why I was never successful at this before?  Aren't I the one who sets my own destiny not some loop of the same old thing?  Isn't the "new" me the real me and the old me a thing of the past? 

So I didn't want to write this post but it's helped me to discard a temporary "defeat" and move forward.  It's helped me realize a destructive pattern in myself so that I will not be doomed to repeat it.  So I thought, maybe it might help someone else.   I had my little "vacation" from the scale and now it's time to "straighten up and fly right" as my Mema likes to say.  It's renewed my fight.  Here's some lyrics:

The Fighter, Gym Class Heroes:
Until the referee rings the bell
Until both your eyes start to swell
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya'll?

Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me
Say to me, this one's a fighter.

Meet Your Trainers

"Meet your trainers for the month of July."

That was the declaration Jeff and Marisa (my former trainers) said to the current Transformation group that followed us (the original crew) after telling them to assemble in the gym for a game twist.  Standing before them as the "trainers" were four of us from last years' group.  The "new" group immediately started clapping with excitement to my immense relief.  Although those of us in the room from the old team had recruited most of the group, I wasn't sure how they'd like this new twist that took them away from their professional trainers and put them in our hands for a month.

It was a proud moment for me, a former couch potato who knew next to nothing about fitness, that not only did Jeff and Marisa trust us with these guys, but that they were happy about it.   And there was another twist:  if the eleven of us collectively could lose 50 pounds in the month of July, Jeff and Marisa would train all of us together for the month of August. Once those of us (Millie, Flo, Dana, and I) who had been on our own for a while heard that, you could believe that we were bound and determined to make it happen.  I felt my inner Jillian Michaels wake up and start to stir. 

Even better, my "client" turned out to be my buddy Rick who I helped recruit into the second round.  Throughout my year of the program Rick had been a constant support and cheerleader for me, and we couldn't wait to work together.

So to use a Hunger Games reference, it's back to the arena for a few of us original members.  Back to Tuesday weigh ins and being accountable on the scale again.  We've all been faithful in the gym, but this renewal has caused us to tighten up on our food choices and rekindled our competitive spirits. 

For our first workout together today, I decided to take it back to my old school workouts where I'd put on my music and wail away on the heavy bag.  I told Rick that every Monday was going to be Cardio Monday and we proceeded to do a heavy bag-elliptical machine circuit where we'd switch back and forth in five minute increments for an intense half hour that left us dripping with sweat.  At the end I almost felt like I had to throw up...always the sign of a good workout in my line of craziness. 

As I showed Rick how to punch the bag in the proper form, how to twist his hips as he struck, and shared with him how I used to come down and do this exact thing when I was first starting out, channeling all my frustrations with my body into that black bag to an angry music playlist, I realized how far I've come and what a cool thing it was to help someone else do the same thing.