Suck It Up and Suck It In

Today’s lesson is on compare and contrast.  I will entertain you with two very different experiences on shopping.  What does this have to do with wellness and running you say?  Well…you know how my stories go…words laced with hidden meanings and health-related undertones.

In celebration of my 35^th birthday this year in October, my mama baked me and my family up a ham with all the fixins.  Mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, rolls, salad…and for dessert a zucchini cake frosted with cream cheese.  Being a fan of the Cooking Light Dinner Club, I can assure you nothing that I ingested registered on the low calorie food list.  After very nearly gorging myself to death during the delicious meal, I proceeded to open my gifts.  One of them was a sweet card from my husband with a stash of $20 bills for an exciting shopping spree to be filled full of running shoes.  “YAY for me!” I shouted in delight.  I’ve been needing a new pair of running shoes.  In fact, I had fallen off the running bandwagon for the last month with “broken down shoes” as my excuse not to go for a run.  Okay-Okay.  Maybe I had done a bit of spiraling downhill (with very little running in that spiral).  My husband also very lovingly instructed “this money is to be used for nice clothes for work.”  Dang it.

SUCKING IT IN…

Later that week I headed out the door cash in hand.  I decided to get the clothes thing out of the way first.  I don’t know about any of you…but there are certain things I like to shop for, shoes for one.  Ahhh….nothing makes my day like buying a good pair of shoes.  But there are certain things I stay away from-like pants and swimsuits.  I contemplated calling my Healthcare Provider for a Z pack….not an antibiotic like you are probably thinking, but an antidepressant.  Nothing good comes from trying on pants and swimsuits in my experience.  So there I was in the middle of a department store thumbing through slacks and eventually, with a sick feeling in my stomach, I drug myself over to the fitting rooms.  Five pairs of pants later my sister, sensing something was amiss with me, called my cell as I was trying to stuff myself into a pair of black dress pants.  “What are you doing?” She asked all happy and bubbly-like.  Through a clenched jaw I answered, “I’m trying on my sixth pair of slacks.  It’s not going very well!”  After much whining peppered with swear words, a mildly concerned fitting room attendant knocked on the door of the dressing room and asked if she could be of assistance.  “No.  Uh…not unless you have a different body I can try on…but thanks for asking, really, I do appreciate it.”  Thinking I’m funny, she laughed from the other side of the door as I wanted to cry.  I blasted out of the store with a couple pairs of pants and got in my car.  Ignoring the siren’s call of McDonalds and cursing the half a pig I consumed earlier in the week I drove in my depressive state to the local sporting goods store.

SUCKING IT UP…

With my body cold and shaken from the traumatic event I had just suffered, evil pants thrown haphazardly in the back of the car, I made my way to the entrance of the store.  I was greeted by the warmth emanating from the shoe department.  Somewhere in the distance I could hear a choir the store staff has strategically hidden in a clothes rack singing “hallelujah.”  A magical force pulled me to the running section and suddenly I was one with the earth.  My body now warm and previous trauma forgotten at that point, tears of joy invisibly slid down my cheek.  I was at home.  I was with my people.  So many shoes to choose from!  I purchased a pair and raced home from the store avoiding any eye contact with fast food establishments and then dressed for a run.  Oh!  It was like running on clouds!  I didn’t realize how bad I needed shoes…they made all the difference in the world.  When I got home I hopped on the computer and downloaded some good running tunes for my play list.  I was in the zone.  At this point, I called my brother and coerced him into running the Snow Joke Half Marathon.  I needed a goal.  I needed something to get me out there! 

What can we glean from this experience is body image and the importance of having a positive one.  You know what makes you feel good and makes you feel good about yourself.  Mine happens to be shopping for running shoes and focusing on a race goal.  Yours might be cooking, walking, meditation, or simply doing something nice for someone else.  I also am very aware of what affects my positive body image.  When reality slaps me in the face and I have to go up a pant size, Negative Nelly comes out and a rack of slacks grows horns and a tail.  I have to buy these evil articles of clothing once in a while or employees will see me giving flu shots with holes in my pants.  I muscle through it and I like to think it’s one of those “character building” situations my parents and boss tell me about that’s supposed to be good for me.

Do you feel good about yourself?  Do you like where you are at nutritionally, physically, and mentally?  Are you happy?  If you’ve answered ‘yes’ to most of these questions then good for you!!!  And if you answered ‘no’, don’t fret!  It just means like me, you have room for improvement.  We all do.  This is what motivates us to change…what motivates us to do things that make us feel good and be better. 

Have a great week!

Yours truly,

Ham Lover and Cake-Eater, RN

It was as cold as a mother trucker...

Last year I managed to hobble my way through a half marathon with little training…

Picture this, it’s -11 outside at 0800 on a Saturday morning in the dead of winter.  “Perfect race weather” I think to myself as I’m hopping into the car to drive a couple hours to Seeley Lake, the start of the 32^nd Annual Snow Joke Half Marathon.  As I sipped my Starbucks and reflected on the lack of training and pre-race dinner of pizza and an adult beverage the night before, I prayed a silent prayer to the race gods in hopes they would have porta-potties strategically located at mile markers 6 and 9.

We arrive at the Seeley Lake High School and am reassured I am not the only crazy person running in these arctic conditions.  It turns out there are several of us--maybe 150 entrants.  I stand in line for my race number and the golden trophy and the reason I am here…my race shirt.  Minutes before the 11:00 start time, we all head out into the now balmy -4 temperatures outside.  Waiting patiently for about 15 minutes, we listen as the race director covers the course and provides disclaimers like “if you get lost just follow the runner in front of you wearing the shirt with the course map on it” and “there are no porta-potties-but several trees”.  Great.  Panicking because I’ve brought no toilet paper, I begin preparing myself for the likelihood of arriving at the end of the race with one or no gloves that are now keeping my hands toasty and free from frostbite.  The shotgun sounded and we were off like a herd of frozen turtles.        

The race, all in all, went pretty well.  I ran the entire thing and ran it painfully slow, but I finished.  My dad was kind enough to lend me his skeleton faced mask he uses when riding his Harley and I dressed in so many layers that had I fallen on the road of snow-packed ice, I would have bounced back up in an upright position.  I stayed warm and ended up at the finish line with both of my gloves, thus earning the right to wear my golden trophy, my t-shirt.  With signage along the way like “That isn’t sweat!  That is your fat cells crying” at mile 8, “Pain Ahead” at mile 10, and “Poop if ya gotta” at mile marker 11 to inspire me, how could I NOT love a race like this no matter how cold it is outside?!?!

I didn’t train for this like I should have.  In fact, I can’t say I really trained.  At all.  In my crazy life of kids and school last year I was able to squeeze in a 7-miler and a 10-miler for long runs…and did a handful of smaller jaunts if I had 20 or 30 minutes to spare throughout the weeks.  I do not recommend doing this.  While I was able to finish the race I couldn’t walk for a week after.  I cried every time I had to go from sitting to standing/standing to sitting position.  I learned my lesson.  This year, my brother and I are training-actually training-for the same race.  If you are interested, it is always the last Saturday in February.  Seeley Lake, Montana.  Starts at 11.  You need to register early though if you want a cool race shirt.  Check out my bio for the link!  Snow Joke Half Marathon…here we come!

The Adventures of Peg Leg

For those of you that don’t know, running form is important and can make a significant impact on how fast and how enjoyable your run will be.  When I explain the importance of form to individuals who run with me for the first time I have several pointers:  Run to conserve energy.  Glide and don’t waste your energy on bouncing with every step.  Keep your arms in and low-but move them because you need to stay loose.  And of course my most important piece of advice-always look for trees and bushes along your path…in the event the chili you ate last night comes back to haunt you. 

The following is another e-mail exchange between me and my sister Tyra when my own form was critiqued.  My poor form had more to do with me overcompensating for my physical asymmetries.  Once I got a heel lift in my shoe it made all the difference-but I still had to re-learn how to run “right.”  Enjoy…

Dear Tyra,

Well I was thrown a cracker crumb.  Not the full saltine.  Just a crumb. 

I was given the gift of running a single lap, a whole ¼ of a mile around a track while my physical therapist leered at me through her unconfirmed glass eye.  Unconfirmed because I myself am unable to detect the fake with my own trained nurse’s eye.  But this alleged glass eye has to be the cause of my newly discovered right shoulder slump today. Surely this new physical attribute compliments my newly diagnosed peg leg issue.  Additionally, my running form lacks any symmetry whatsoever.

The therapist watched and commented on my running form as she slapped my gangly appendages into place.  How unfortunate for me to not have a seizure disorder to blame my blatantly obvious physical handicaps on.  It is by the grace of God, Tyra, you have not suffered more greatly in this shared life with me.  How have you missed a sharp elbow to the lip?  A finger to the eye?  Crushing sensations while my body uncontrollably heaves itself toward you at any given moment?  You have lived life with me while simultaneously escaping death.

Glass Eye Therapist (One Eyed Willa) told me that my pelvis is uncontrolled… “you have very little control of your pelvis.”  Hmmm.  My thought initially was… “Excuse me One Eye Willa-I have four kids…you just figured that one out?  Where were you years ago in my youth?”  She is good.  And I am learning.  I will be a woman of grace and poise someday.

No running for another week.  But I get to ride my cool bike.  If I manage to not flail and do the kickin’ chicken’ while riding myself into oncoming traffic…I might make it through these next few weeks of running celibacy.  Until then…

Your Loving Sister with Natural Disabilities,

Peg

(Secret Mistress to Captain Jack Sparrow)

RESPONSE FROM LOVING AND SUPPORTIVE SISTER: 

Your experience amuses me.  Yes, I have laughed at your expense. 

I am going to go out on a limb here and say that I never experienced your seizure disorder because you have been sleeping most of your life with your eyes half open.  It is my educated belief that your penchant for sleeping with your eyes half open has somehow conditioned your brain to bypass the electrical surges that reveal a seizure disorder.  Somehow, the electrical surges must have escaped to affect only the area of the brain that affects your pelvis.  It is rare, but seizures can be localized to a certain part of your body.  While I don't think you will at any point do the kicking chicken (I appreciate your pseudo medical terminology), you may break into a motion that is reminiscent of Jane Fonda's hip thrust work out video.  Hopefully, this only happens in bed…or while you are by yourself. 

In the event that your hips randomly thrust due to seizure activity, you can explain them away as back problems (people believe anything after you say that it is your back that is causing your problems), however, I would suggest you be much more proactive.  "Borrow" some tie downs at work.  Strap yourself to your chair (hopefully it is one that rolls) and commence working.  For days that you are on the floor you can still use the tie downs, but will need to tie yourself to a board.  A 2X4 that reaches roughly from your shoulder blades to the bottom of your ass would be sufficient.  What we are after is stabilizing your hips so that the range of motion (i.e. arc of the hip thrust) is minimal.  There.  Problem solved.

Your right shoulder slump is caused from psychological issues.  It is the preverbal "chip on the shoulder." Your psychological state is manifesting itself in physical impairments of your body. This requires much more than Willa can provide.  While I might be a contender in supplying you with the help you need for your shoulder slumpage, I would suggest that you seek help with a professional that lives in your area.  Additionally, since I am your younger sister, you would be more apt to actually listen and respect someone that is not related, and perhaps older than yourself.  If you choose to utilize only Willa for your issues, you will just be doing something to cover up the symptoms, not actually treating the cause. 

I will leave you to your thoughts now.

PS  Pelvis is much easier to deal with than nipples.  It is also much more appropriate to use in idle conversation and social situations.

Tyra

Where did "Peg" Come From?

After finishing the Sedona Marathon in 2009, I started to have some hip problems.  Like a good nurse I put off going to the doctor for months chalking it up to old age.  Finally, when every run brought about severe pain causing me to gimp about...I caved like a cheap card table and went in.  After an MRI and several x-rays later I was diagnosed with piriformis syndrome (http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/87545-overview) among other abnormalities.  Below is an e-mail exchange between my sister and myself and the experiences surrounding my physical situation.  The term "Peg Leg" is a personal joke between us...and it stuck.  Enjoy...

Dearest Sister of Mine,

I have just experienced my first session of physical therapy.

Along with all my other imperfections…my left leg is longer than my right.  The right side of my pelvis is also tilted outward after calving out four children.  Really…I can blame my children for ravishing my body and inability to run at this time.  I have noticeable weakness and minimal flexibility on the Right.  Apparently my left side and my back have compensated so well after being ‘physically driven into the ground’ that I have a rounder buttock on my left side than I do my right.  I believe her words were… "your right side is noticeably more flat than you left."

How nice for me.

I could try to come up with more witty things to say…but…I’m a peg leg, Tyra.  No wonder I struggle to walk upright and am severely uncoordinated.

I just need a lisp.

Some drool coming out of my mouth.

I’ve already decided to stop showering and am going to start soiling myself.  Maybe I’ll get manicures and squawk like a chicken. 

I am declining anything to do with hygiene.  How could I have been so blind?  How could children do this to me?

Your loving sister,

Peg

RESPONSE FROM LOVING, SUPPORTIVE SISTER BELOW:

Peg,

Just because you have some slight physical imperfections does not call for a total hygiene halt. As your sister, it is my duty that I openly tell you drooling, soiling yourself, and squawking like a chicken (under most circumstances) is not socially appropriate.  Furthermore, not showering will result in social ostracism. 

You are a beautiful woman with a hot ass.  This is coming from a woman who has enough back bacon, tenderloins, and lamb chops (probably several ham steaks) to aid third world countries.  Your flaws are so minor they effect only the psychological (physical - only to the point of not being able to run) aspect of your life.  You knowing that you are a peg leg may affect your self confidence, but I can assure you that no one can tell you are a peg leg with the naked eye...unless you have to have special shoes with a lifter built on to the sole.  You don't do you?  Have to have a special shoe?  I may have to reword the pep talk if that is the case......

Special shoes are not a big deal.  So what if they are not fashionable and scream "I have a peg leg!"  You have gotten through worse than special shoes.  We can dress them up with some sparkly shoe strings, or I can paint lady bugs on them for you.  You will love them when I am done!  AND, who looks at a nurse's shoes anyway?  Everyone who is anyone knows to avoid looking at nurse shoes (generally they are hideous and manly, I am just saying).  In public you can wear long flair pants that cover them.  There. Special shoe problem solved.

Now, back to making you feel better.  I say you blame dad for your peg leg.  Mom gets my furryness and inability to reproduce, along with some of the back bacon.  We need to spread the love...and guilt.  Dad's freaky middle toe is responsible for this entire mess.  His ridiculously thick, fast growing fingernails could also be a factor.  Center all your rage and self confidence issues on this freaky middle toe of Dad’s.  Just let it go...hate the toe and not yourself.

Truly, I think you have a nice ass and have noticed no flatness on either side. 

Tyra

Happy Holidays?

I don’t know about you, but from about the middle of November to the end of December my life turns into a tornado.  It ravages me, pulling me in 18 different directions towards events like basket ball practices and games, holiday programs, Christmas parties, and gift shopping.  Then it lashes me with ribbons and bows from cookie baking, present wrapping and tree decorating.  Thinking it is finally done, soon family dinners and desserts leaded with thousands of delicious calories are being lobbed in my direction.

How can I possibly make it to the New Year without my life being proclaimed as a state of emergency and overdosing on my grandpa’s homemade fudge recipe???  In my quest to find inner-happy-holiday-ness I’ve asked others for guidance.  My dad, in a moment of profoundness, advised me “Stay out of Walmart, Tova.”  “Hide your checkbook from your wife” was my brother’s advice, then retracted his statement (fearing his own wife might catch wind of his words) and said, “Stay at home.  Lock your doors.”  My sister Tyra, had a lengthy answer… “I suppress, ignore, and am, for the most part in denial.  I get my job done and set the holidays in a separate compartment in my brain.  I open the little compartment on Christmas day to express my joy. Six months later when I am still trying to pay off my debt from Christmas the little compartment is opened again so I can cry.”

I looked to my co-workers in my time of happy-holiday need.  I got answers like, “Ignore it.”, “Good planning.  Then panic.”, and “You know how I make it through the holiday season, Tova…you saw me at the Christmas party.”  Well, Awesome!!!  This is shaping up to be a joyous blog filled with sage advice!

If anything, what you can take from this is we all have our ways to get us through the holidays while still finding joy in the season.  I take all of these pieces of wisdom and apply them to my own life in moderation.  My advice to you?  Hang in there!  Crazy schedules and to-do lists make you feel like a rubber band getting stretched and pulled.  Take the rubber band, tie your hair up, and go for a walk.  Come up with a plan to get you through the rest of the day or week.  No one can do everything!!!  So do what you can and do it the best that you can!!!

Making holiday programs is a struggle for me.  To do this, I have to hone in on my skills in the fine art of bribery.  One of my co-workers consented to a shift change when I offered up some brownies I had made out of my Cooking Light magazine.  Before agreeing, he confirmed there would be no bark or cardboard substituted for ingredients and the brownies would taste like brownies…as opposed to…bark or cardboard.  With enough convincing I was set.  The next day the brownies were delivered.  Much to ALL of my co-workers surprise, the brownies were delicious. 

Should you need to resort to bribery in order to be creative with your schedule, I’ve included the link to the easy bark-less brownies my co-workers enjoy!

Fudgy Brownies from Cooking Light
http://find.myrecipes.com/recipes/recipefinder.dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=10000002012802

Seemingly Cheap of Me...

This is just the beginning.  Be prepared to see some archived writings I've authored about my trials and tribulations on how to be healthy and well while not giving in to the forces of evil...like pizza...beer...milk duds...and such.  With the holidays upon us, we all can use a little motivation-right?  So here I am.  My gift to you this season is my humor and energy.  Seemingly cheap of me-but stay tuned.  You might find the laughs I give you from my writings are just what the doctor ordered!