When I started this blog, I made up my mind that I would try to avoid getting mired in a protracted discussion about my attempts to lose weight. Frankly, there are a zillion and one weight-loss blogs out there, some interesting and constructive and others, neurotic and counterproductive. Whether I ended up at one end of the spectrum or the other, I felt like there was relatively little I could contribute to the debate. Additionally, I thought that my own struggles with weight were a distinctly separate issue from the CP–that I was merely unlucky enough to have both brain damage and bad genes.
In conversations with PTE, who works with children and young adults with CP, I learned that I am not alone in my struggle against both CP and obesity. (We have lots of time to chat while she twists me up like a pretzel.) I guess if you think about it, it’s no mystery that a population for whom exercising is often difficult, painful, inconvenient or embarrassing would struggle to maintain healthy weights. For me, as for millions of other Americans–able-bodied and otherwise–food also served as an emotional salve. I often felt lonely, isolated and bored as a teenager or young adult. I couldn’t join sports teams or go on Outward Bound-type hiking excursions to test my physical limits against nature, as was the trend in the early 90s. So like many other teenagers, I sat home, felt alienated, listened to loud, angry music and ate whatever was on offer. A lot of whatever was on offer.
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Does that ever sound like a Reagan-era public service announcement?! What that headline probably should say is: Drugs Are Only Part of the Solution. In my last post I talked a little bit about my search for solutions to my recurrent back pain over the last couple of years. It would be easy in looking at this blog to make the mistaken assumption that Botox injections alone were the solution to my problem. I’ve often described receiving my first round of shots as “my Christmas miracle” and natter incessantly about how this experience has changed my life. But without sounding conceited or overly self-congratulatory, I have to admit that the improvement I’ve seen has not been a purely pharmaceutical “miracle.” It was born of literally years of hard work. The miracle that the drugs worked for me is that they made my work more effective.The two things that the drugs do is temporarily decrease spasticity and as a result, decrease pain. The rest of it? The improved gait, increased strength, etc.,? Much of that comes from the hard work.
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So on to the fitness update: since I posted last I’ve been working hard on my stamina, which seems to have taken a bit of a hit since Botox, phase two. It’s not surprising really. My body is adjusting to a new equilibrium and acquiring new skills. Muscles that have been semi-dormant for years are waking up and joints that have been immobile or have moved inefficiently for more than three decades are beginning to shift. It’s been a little more exhausting than I counted on. I’ve been getting fewer workouts than usual, but I’ve been concentrating on walking correctly everywhere I go.
Walking is more complicated than you realize–and breaking old, inefficient habits is difficult. Walking is a skill I am having to recultivate, which takes a huge amount of concentration. There’s a litany of things to remember and postures to maintain: lead with your heel, it should strike the ground on the outside. edge. Then roll around the outside of your foot and push off with your big toe. Keep your hips in a neutral position and engage your abs and glutes to make sure it stays there. Be sure to engage your hamstrings as you swing your leg forward, so you don’t catch your toes. . .as you swing that leg forward turn your knee out slightly. . . . and on and on.
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I’m trying to get back on the blog-maintenance wagon, really. Lots of things have been going on lately, for me personally on the fitness front, in politics with the health care reform, and in medicine as related to the treatments discussed here. I’ve dutifully bookmarked the articles I’ve found, I’ve mulled them over, I’ve drafted some posts, and yet nothing has shown up here. I don’t even have a good excuse. So as far as blogging goes, my motivation is distinctly lacking. I’ve been thinking about motivation a lot this week: who has it, who doesn’t, how to get it and how to keep it when things are rough.
Motivation isn’t something you can give to someone. Read more…
After a completely unintentional, inexplicable, snow and inertia-induced hiatus, I’m back. The good news is that, while I was on hiatus from blogging, I was not on hiatus from the fitness quest. During the Snowmageddon/Snoverkill debacle that gripped the District this month, I was, in fact, particularly stalwart and vigilant about my workouts (read here: bored and climbing up the walls of my apartment). I was in full-on preparation mode for my second round of Botox injections, so I wasn’t about to be deterred by a little–or even a lot–of snow.
Over the last couple of weeks, I also trekked out to Baltimore to see the osteopath, who rearranged my back and abdomen. While I was there, we also took some strength and range of motion measurements in preparation for the next round of shots. These measurements help the PTs and neurologist to determine where the Botox would be most beneficial, and can give a good indication of how my gait will be affected. The point of the Botox is to improve gait mechanics–and pain–so the pros choose carefully where the drugs should be applied. If a particular muscle group is too weak, then regardless of spasticity, they are hesitant to hit that muscle group. This is basically because, if you’re already an ambulator (a fancy way of saying that you can walk), they want to make sure you stay that way. This is fundamentally why the group opted only to inject my gastrocs and soleus (solei?) in the first round–because they were unsure of the net affect of more extensive shots. These, however, were folks who didn’t know me well and under-estimated both my strength and determination.
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Ostensibly, this is blog is devoted to the pursuit of physical fitness and not so much to the narrower goal of weight loss. However, since the desire to lose weight was my primary motivator in beginning this quest 12 years ago, for me, the two are closely, and sometimes problematically, intertwined.
Somewhere along the line, I began to believe that if I was thin enough, my body would somehow become more acceptable–both to me and to society, at large. The association between thinness/physical beauty and success/happiness is something that most women–and nowadays a lot of men–struggle with. So in this self-flagellation over proper diet and body size, I am, sadly, very normal. One well-loved piece of advice to avoid obsessing about your weight is to concentrate on what your body can do, not what it looks like. But when a large part of your struggle is frustration at what your body refuses to do, this advice falls pretty flat. These days, thanks to the Botox, my body and I have called an armistice after many years of bitter fighting–heck, I think we might even have a diplomatic relationship in the making! So now I’m going to give this perspective shift a shot.
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Yesterday was a scheduled “off” day at the gym. I ran errands, tried to avoid the allure of even just a teeny tiny bout of cardio, and basically sacked out on the couch. In addition to being bat-sh%$ fanatical about the gym, I have two other serious problems: 1.) an endless fascination with crime dramas (duh, duh) and 2.) a love-hate relationship with weight-loss and fitness shows. Yesterday, I was on withdrawal from the gym so I indulged in the other two.
I know that a lot of people are inspired by the show “The Biggest Loser” and that it’s been instrumental in igniting many Americans’ desire to get off the couch and get fit. I think it’s great to encourage people to take charge of their bodies and their lives, and I applaud the folks who are willing to undertake this challenge in a very public forum. Those folks are far braver than I am: that draconian trainer woman, the skimpy spandex outfits, the colossal scale? I couldn’t hack it. Shoot, I just recently started appearing in public in shorts for the first time in about 5 years, never mind being on television.
But I have to admit: the show drives me berserk.
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Two more successful workouts logged for the week: weights and 25 minutes of intense cardio yesterday, and a hour of cardio today–15 minutes on the Step Mill, 45 minutes of hill intervals on the arc trainer. The Step Mill is like the bigger, meaner brother to the StairMaster. It kind of looks like a mini-escalator; the steps move down as you walk up. It’s a tough haul, and currently I can only handle about 15 minutes. There was a time, when I was training with my Bad A$% Trainer before the broken leg, that I could do 45 minutes at a time. Clearly, I’ve gone soft. Even so, the 15 minutes on the Step Mill involves being at 80-90% of my recommended maximum heart rate for almost all 15 minutes, so I can’t be too disappointed. It’s so hard core it makes my eyeballs sweat. Or maybe that was just tears?
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After all that carrying on on Tuesday about missing my workout, I woke up refreshed and renewed on Wednesday. Despite an even rougher day at work than the day before, I hit the gym and knocked out 30 minutes on the eliptical, and an hour of weight-training/muscle work. So all of the hand-wringing was, as I suspected, an attack of stupidity.
Afterward, I felt fantastic! I went home and danced around my kitchen to the Glee soundtrack and cooked dinner. (The cover of “Gold Digger” is a quality quality song!)
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New Year’s: The time of year when gym membership deals and good intentions abound, and the number of attendees at your 5 am spinning class grows twenty-fold for two solid weeks! Here’s an interesting, if a little obvious, article about how self-consciousness keeps overweight and obese people from sticking with their fitness resolutions.
Top Reasons Those “Get Fit” Resolutions Don’t Stick
I spent many years feeling self-conscious about my body–first about it’s size, and then about it’s faulty, awkward mechanics–while at the gym. Then I realized something: like me, most people were too busy sweating, suffering, or feeling self-conscious themselves, to notice me.
So if you’re feeling apprehensive about getting out and sweating in public, remember that it’s ok to look like you’re working hard. And if you catch someone staring at you, they’re more than likely impressed, rather than appalled or amused. Odds are, if they’re like me, they’ve been there–and in their minds are cheering you on.