here goes

Shaping up the lens curvature way

I recently signed up for a "greatest loser" program at my health club.  A class of us spend from 6:30 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. four mornings a week for cardio workouts, weights, stretching .  We meet with a nutrition every other week and we are tracking all our calorie intake to the minute.

Now, please understand -- I've been through all this before to lose weight (before injuries sidelined me).

Why do it all over, if I already know all the fitness and nutrition drills already?

I blame it on light refraction. Turns out when I sidled by the mirrors at the health club to check out my profile, I looked at myself out of the corner of my eye. My glasses, unfortunately, distorted the true situation.  Once, by accident, I turned my head further and saw my midsection expand dramatically. 

That glimpse of the way things look to others was the deciding factor.  Last time I lost weight, I wore contacts and -- who knew? -- glasses change things quite a bit (at least mine do).

This particular "greatest loser" program provides monetary incentives in the form of 1% of a refund for each pound, percentage of body fat and inch I lose in six weeks. I want to be able to look in the mirror and not get any more nasty surprises as soon as possible.

Shaping up by looking through the most curved part of my glasses lenses, sadly, isn't very convincing to everyone else.

    Nancy

Meditative practice of the week

My father teases me by asking frequently, "Started any new hobbies this week?"

Back in May, I went to a kendo class. Kendo is the Japanese practice of sword fighting. Actually, it's more of a meditative practice than I realized -- and a great workout. It's great for aerobic fitness and is a excellent for the upper body.  Almost right away, I bought a shinai (bamboo sword) and a bokuto (wooden sword)

I ordered the first set of clothing yesterday, namely my hakama (pants) and keikogi (shirt). Next, I need to order the rest of my gear, like my bogu for my middle and all the padding. What happened to all that roller hockey gear I had five or six years ago? Maybe I could use that in the interim.  At least the carrying case would come in handy.
So, I forgot to mention this new development when we spoke today, Dad.  Now you know I'm getting serious.

Is Miranda Priestly right: is size 6 the new 14?

Miranda Priestly (Devil #1 in The Devil Wears Prada) is sort of right.  Size 6 is really the old 14 (or 12, anyway).

I've been thinking about sizes lately, since mine has been creeping upward and hunts through my closet have been getting increasingly uncomfortable lately.  It seemed to me, when I ordered a party dress online recently, that sizes are now a lot more ample than they used to be?  How to check something like this out?  I don't actually trust web searches on this one, so I turned to my library.

First, I consulted a high school textbook published in 1955 called Clothing Construction and Wardrobe Planning.  That book had no size charts at all (presumably because the readers were so good at clothing alterations that size charts were unnecceary). It did include an entire chapter of advice on buying "readymades," including instructions on how to be polite to the store sales clerks.

I then consulted Readers Digest Complete Guide to Sewing that included a size chart from 1976.  The "misses'" chart started with size 6 and went to size 20.  The "women's" chart started at size 38 and went up to size 50.

When I compared it with the "general women's size chart" from my favorite online clothing vendor, I noticed that all the waist sizes starting with size 6 were 4 inches larger than they were in the 1970s!  The new chart also had sizes 0, 2, and 4 to cover those people who have not expanded in the past 30 years.

Hence the faith-based sizing I've heard about lately. That's why size 6 jeans from my teenage years are only have only 23-inch waist and why size 6 jeans in the stores now have a 27-inch waist.

The ABCs of healthy sinuses

This is getting riduculous.  Starting last November, I took two rounds of Augmentin to treat a low-grade sinus infection. That drug didn't knock out the bug, so I did a round of Biaxin.  That drug had no lasting effect on the green monster, so a nasty cold and lingering sinus hell later, I'm now taking a three-week course of Cipro.

If this doesn't work, what's next? Doxycycline?

Sigh.  (Sniff, sniff)

Not too fine a point

During my long convalescence, I have picked up the habit of walking slowly along a mile loop once or twice through residential streets and a park in my neighborhood.  For the most part, the experience has been a pleasant one, except for the occasional bicyclist who insists on riding on the sidewalks.

During my walk last night, a young woman hopped on her bike and accelerated down the sidewalk toward me.  I did not budge from my course (my injury was on the opposite side from her or I might have been more keen to get out of her way.)  As she came close to me and I did not move over to give her the entire sidewalk (half is more than she deserves anyway), she said "Excuse me."

I said back to her in a commanding tone, "Get off the sidewalk!" as she passed.

Behind me, I heard her say, "What did you say?"  I didn't turn around.

The nerve!  It's an epidemic for bicyclists to take over the sidewalks.  I'm not going to take it anymore (in some ways, I love getting older and because I am much less shy about this sort of thing).  As I walked, though I did wonder about the message.

Would it have been more clear if I'd said, "Get your bike off the sidewalk!" or "Ride on the street!"  Clearly, people who ride bikes in the sidewalk are not too clear on the concept of their vehicles being subject to same rules of the road as cars (except maybe for it being more-or-less okay to ride a bike while intoxicated.)

Maybe next time I will say, "You are not a pedestrian. Ride your bike on the street, please."

Bounding

Today I am thankful that, even with chronic ear infections and a bit of lingering muscle fatigue, I'm able to bound up stairs at work two at a time.  When I think back to when I was a youngster, I cannot think of very many 40-something women who would run up stairs on a regular basis.

Sure, I've had my share of mobility issues from time to time.

Health is often something we don't appreciate till it's gone.

Not only am I healthy, I have energy and excitement enough to be a tiny bit bouncy.

Sometimes I surprise myself.

Another day of many firsts

Today was a day of many firsts, three that I'll write about. 

New thing #1

I had my first cortisone injection. For my ankle.  It was exquisitely painful.  Also, my youngish doctor does not have that clinical poker face down at all.  When I expressed suprise that pain shot up into my toes and the bottom of my foot went numb, he seemed not only intrigued, but suprised as well.  He assured me I had nothing to worry about.

My readers think differently on that point.  Thanks to P. for sending me a link to a James Mason movie, Bigger Than Life. It's like P. knows that it takes very little persuasion to get me to a James Mason movie.  I melt inside anywhere around the sound of his voice, even in Lolita.  P. said the movie depicts characters with cortisone-induced psychosis.  Sounds about right.  By the time my doctor prescribed it, I was indeed feeling psychotic.  I do not respond happily to chronic conditions.

New thing #2

What else was new?  I picked up our first order of food from the CSA group we joined.  CSA, or community supported agriculture, lets people buy shares of produce from local farms.  The farms set up distribution points for the fresh produce in local communities.  The idea -- and I think this is a good one esp. after reading reviews of TV dinners on metafilter today -- that buying local produce is better for the economy, the environment, gustatory exerience, and health.  The buyers benefit from consuming produce picked fresh from the fields that very morning.

New thing #3

I cooked and ate chard today. Chard was one of the fresh veggies we got in our share this week. I'm not at all crazy about chard. It burns my throat and leaves me a persistent oddly numb yet sore sensation.  Why anyone would it it in salads or as a side dish is beyond me. 

(The beets, carrots, romaine lettuce, strawberries, and leeks should give me a lot less trouble.)

New thing #4

Today was my first official coaching session. I hired a personal coach.  I don't have time to see my personal trainer because of 6 hours of physical therapy a week, but I do have time to talk to a coach every other week.  So, off I go to complete my assignments (or whatever they are called.)

Hurry up and walk

In recent weeks, I've joined the small ranks of people who commute by walking. My workplace is "only" 3.5 miles from where I live. So, I've started walking one direction of my commute two or three times per week. So far, somehow, I've managed only to walk home from work in the evening, never to work in the morning. I have a complicated shoe and spare vehicle shuffle I do to make this possible, but my European commuting bike figures prominently in this scheme.

It probably would have been better to pick this habit up when the days are getting longer and warmer, instead of shorter or colder, but -- on the other hand -- it could be a great way to keep weight off during the holidays and still enjoy the occasionally sweet treat.

Each 3.5 mile walk takes me just over an hour. I call this developing ritual even shorter in terms of commute time than driving does. If I drove to and from and walked an hour for exercise, the time required is 1.5 hours. However, when I drive one direction and walk home the other, the exercise and commuting combine nicely and it only takes 1.25 hours. Commuting on bike is even more efficient. It only takes me five minutes longer to commute by bike each way and I get exercise doing it.

My enthusiasm for this project increased when my town improved the Caltrain (everyone pronounces it "cal-tran") train station a mile from my home. It actually allows for bikes! No more carrying bikes over the tracks on some terrible stairs! Now a well-lit ramp goes under the tracks, just like the German stations we grew so fond of.

The walk itself is rather boring, but at least I have pedestrian lights at most crosswalks and sidewalks or paved parking lots at deserted buildings most of the way home. There are only three feet on my journey where I have to walk on grass. The tree-lined light-industrial streets are not unpleasant. I walk right by the back entrance to my health club and sometimes I actually stop for even more exercise. Most of the route is well-lit, except for the worst neighborhood, of course, just south of the train station -- the one where I've crunched long lines of broken glass from busted windshields under my feet. Personal crimes are low where I live, so I don't worry too much for my safety (there are some places I wouldn't park my car if I had a nicer one, though.)

The strangest feeling, as I walk along, is the feeling of cars coming up behind me and passing me in a big hurry to get home. The thing is, at the end of the day, I am also in a big hurry to get home. Because I don't go nearly as fast as the cars, I find myself resenting the cars while I sympathize with and almost pity the drivers. What a singular mix of emotions!

Unexpected admiration

This past week, four people expressed shock and admiration that I take spinning classes. One person read it on my blog and wanted to know if I was still doing it. Another person ran into me when I was at Starbucks buying my friends coffee so I could eat up the $45 gift certificate I got for doing survey for HP on mobile phone usage (If you use a camer phone and, especially, if you are a teenager, let me know and I can hook you up!). Even though I had just had a latte with another friend, I joined her for a second one. I mentioned in passing that I could justify buying two lattes that day because I had just come from spin class. The third person is a coworker who just started working out and who has all she can do to spend some time on the treadmill walking a bit. The fourth person is my husband.

It's rather surprising when one of your routine activities illicits praise from acquantances and spouses. It's never the ones I think it should be, either, like my blog for instance, or maybe like the work I do. Ah well! I spin! And if it didn't happen so early in the morning, I might feel more satisfied about it.

Foray into quantifying things

The McDonalds pedometer is not entirely inaccurate, but it seems to be very sensitive to where it is positioned. If it is positioned on the waistband and aligned with the front center of a leg, it is fairly accurate. Last night, I walked a known distance with two pedometers, the McDonald's one and the Omron.

The hyper-sensitive Omron counted 4,598 steps and called it 1.89 miles. It should have been 2.2 miles. This means that my stride has lengthened since I started some rehabilitation earlier this year. Instead of 2'3", my stride should be closer to 2'5". That is easy enough to change.

The McDonald's pedometer counted 4,471 steps. It is much less sensitive than the Omron. This lack of sensitivity is good when car travel is involved -- it's really annoying when the Omron adds a couple hundred steps on the trip from work to home. However, in my various tests, the McDonalds pedometer consistently undercounts. The Omron counts steps more accurately.

Still, 127 steps off in two miles isn't bad. Assuming my stride is 2'5", that's only 60 yards -- less than the length of a football field for every two miles I walk. Acceptable.

The results all this health-consciousness is having on reshaping my body? I remeasured myself after a year of fairly strenuous, regular activity. Everything is a bit smaller and firmer except for my calves, which are the same, and my biceps, which are bigger (and presumably also firmer). Obviously, I'm doing things besides walking to get that result.