Fit for Photos

Busy, busy, busy.  That’s our mantra sometimes, isn’t it?  Busy working full time.  Busy volunteering.  Busy cooking meals, walking the dog, carpooling the kids, keeping up with the house, keeping up with the Jones. 

Since we really can’t do it all, some things slide.  For me, this year, it was a regular exercise routine and healthy eating habits.  Lots of days I didn’t have time to pack a lunch and I would just buy the school lunch.  So many days, I was too tired to exercise.  To unwind, I substituted a glass of wine on the comfy couch instead.  And way too many days of birthday cupcakes (darn those third graders!) started to add up.

Cupcakes weren’t the only thing adding up, however.  So were the pounds.  Remember the time I wrote about eating peanut M & M’s at work when the button popped off my jeans?  That happened not once, but twice!   In total, I had gained 8 lbs since September.  Now, you wouldn’t look at me and say I was fat.  It was the way I felt.  I felt out of shape.  I felt tired.  I felt out of control with my lack of discipline.  And none of my clothes fit. 

I tried to change my habits.  I gave up sweets for Lent.  It went well for the first few weeks.  Then one day I asked God to forgive me and ate an entire box of Girl Scout cookies.   I know, horrible.  Sorry, God. 

“This summer I will get in shape,” I finally declared.  It became my new mantra.  “When summer comes, I’ll have time to exercise.  When summer comes, I will cook healthy foods.”  That said, I initially ignored the Facebook post that my friend Michelle wrote about a 35 day fitness program she was doing in May.  But something pulled me back to it.  Maybe it was God, still not happy about those Samoas. 

The 5 week diet and exercise program promised results.  Michelle had done it before and highly recommended it.  It was a huge commitment to healthy eating and challenging workouts.  Hmmm.  Instead of waiting until summer to get into shape, what if I was in shape BY summer?  I went to the website to get more information.  The program is called Fit for Photos and it promised to get me looking “hot” for a photo shoot in just five weeks.  I didn’t really want to look hot for a photo shoot, I just wanted to feel better about myself and stop popping the buttons off my pants.    I signed up.

The program began the day after Memorial Day and ended July 1.  Now that I’m finished, I can tell you that it absolutely was challenging and difficult.  I didn’t drink any alcohol for 35 days.  I had to keep a food log which restricted my sugar, dairy and carbohydrates.  Sometimes, I had to fit 2 workouts in one day.  It was also an amazing, positive experience.  I was assigned to a team of 4 women.  In 5 short weeks, we became so close.  We asked questions, shared advice, laughed together and supported each other.   In addition to my team, the entire FFP group was encouraging and supportive.  

My family was so supportive of me too.  “You are inspiring all of us, Mom,” Katherine told me.  Paul started increasing his exercise too.  Jack even got up at 5:00 am once to do a workout with me.   By the end of the five weeks I lost 10 lbs, gained strength and fit in my clothes again.  I also gained new friendships, and the realization that, if I make a healthy lifestyle a priority, I can find time for it. 
 

Now it was time for those pictures.  The program is called Fit for Photos, after all.   I had been dreading it—after all, I’m a 42 year old mother of 2 kids, not a supermodel!   Luckily Meredith and Christy Jenkins Photography were an amazing team!  Meredith welcomed me into her home for a makeup session, making me look gorgeous.  Then, pampered and pretty, I headed off with Christy, her head brimming with creative photo shoot ideas.  She must have snapped hundreds of pictures of “the new me” at three different locations.    I actually felt like a model by the end of it all. 

I know the photos reflect my growing outer strength.  Jack saw one and said, “Wow, my mom’s got a 6 pack!”  I hope my smile in the pictures reflects a little pride from finding my inner strength.  One thing this program taught me: It was there all along.

 

Ouch!

Oh my aching hip.

 I don’t want to become one of those aging people who complains about all their ailments.  I want to focus on all the things I can do—swim, bike, lift weights, walk the dog…really, anything I want except running.  When I run, bad things happen.  My piriformis muscle goes all crazy on me.  Sometimes the sciatic nerve feels left out and wants in on the party.  Together they are trouble. 

Only, I miss running.  I am too young to be too old to run.  I am too young to be falling apart.  So, first I try yoga.  I love yoga, actually.  I feel all stretched out and happy after yoga.  But, I hate the balance poses because when I try to balance on my left side, my hip hurts.  I wobble.  I weeble.  And then I fall down. 

Next, I try a chiropractor.  I have a friend, see, and she swears by her chiropractor.  I love my chiropractor.  First he sends all these amazing jolts of electric current into my lower back to encourage blood flow to the hip.  Then he stretches out my spine and decompresses me.  I feel great when I leave the chiropractor.  I feel taller, somehow.  But, my hip still hurts. 

“Try a heating pad,” a friend suggests.  “You need to ice it,” another recommends.  “Are you doing your stretches?” All this advice overwhelms me.  Should I be taking ibuprofen to reduce the inflammation?  My personal trainer thinks I need a foam roller. 

So far the best suggestion to help my hip has been this: “Try putting your feet up and drinking a beer.”  Resting the body can definitely help the healing.  So, for now, I’ve got my sneakers unlaced and my heels on a pillow.  

There. 

So comfy.

Isn’t this relaxing?

Maybe I’ll just check WebMD for some tips while I’m resting.

A Complicated Solution to a Simple Problem

How many teenagers does it take to turn off the light?  That was the problem that needed solving in my basement this weekend.  Jack had a group project for Science--he and two of his friends needed to create a Rube Goldberg machine.  If you are not familiar with Rube Goldberg, he was famous for drawing cartoons that explained very complicated solutions to simple problems.

For their science project, the machine had to include different types of simple machines, be at least 15 steps, and actually have to DO something. The boys worked all afternoon weaving a maze of ramps and dominos, homemade pulleys and rolling balls.  Finally they had built a machine that started at the top of the  steps and ended with the basement light turning on.  All they had left to do was film it in action.

The key, however, was to iron out the glitches so that all 15 steps would work consecutively without stopping.  Their first attempt was unsuccessful, as was their second, and third...and 25th.

"Maybe you could splice a few of these films together so you can see the whole effect," I suggested.  After all, it was getting late.  The afternoon playdate had turned into a sleepover.  I headed to the grocery store for emergency rations of Doritos and root beer.

"It's going to work this time, I can feel it," P.J. said.  The ball rolled down the steps to hit the table.  The impact knocked the weight to activate the pulley, which pushed the toy car down into the dominoes.  The last domino in the row stayed standing.

"Noooo!" all the boys yelled.  Take 35 unsuccessful.

"Why don't you go to bed," I suggested--mainly because I was tired.  Am I allowed to go to sleep when I have 3 teenage boys awake in my basement?  What is the parenting protocol on this? 

I finally did doze off, until I was awakenened by screaming at 1:30 am.  I stumbled down to the basement to find the three boys jumping up and down ecstatically.  "We did it!  It worked!" 

What started out as a homework assignment for these boys turned into something more.  It was a challenge.  They spent the entire day together brainstorming, compromising, laughing, sharing and working.  Like engineers, they revised their design and had countless trial runs.  They designed a machine and they weren't going to quit until they got it to work.

Now, next question.  How many teenagers does it take to clean up that basement?

The Irony of May



Girl Scouts host the Mother Daughter Tea

Ironic that May is my busiest month yet I told you nothing about it.   May is chock full of activity--let's start with the kids: Katherine's dance classes are ramping up for a recital, her active Girl Scout troop is in full swing hosting the Mother Daughter Tea and her service learning project was due while Jack is busy with baseball and soccer.  Whew.  I took Katherine to her first concert to see Taylor Swift at the Verizon Center too.



And don't get me started on the homework.  Virginia's standardized tests are in May.  Ironically they are called the SOLs  (Standards of Learning).   Just when we think the end of the year might mean a reprieve on homework, the review packets start pouring in. 



Paul knows the kind of Mother's Day Flowers that make me smile.



Meanwhile, Paul's commitment to the Pastor's search committee is more frequent as they whittle down the list of candidates to find our new senior pastor.  He traveled to Las Vegas for work to speak at a conference and, wonderful man that he is, spends his spare time battling weeds in our garden.  We snuck out on a school night for a date this month--had to make time to see an Australian singer named Paul Kelly in concert. 

I have been wrapped up in school too.  Just 12 days of school yet and I know that in the next two weeks somehow it will all get done--end of year evaluation portfolio, end of year math assessment, packing up my room, report cards, parties, field day, graduation...I signed up for a triathlon in August and I've started a new exercise routine to (hopefully!) get in shape by then.

So that's May in a nutshell.  In life's paradoxical way, the periods when my life is most full of activity and adventure are the times when I don't seem make time to reflect on my days and record my memories. 







Something for Nothing

"Hi, would you like a free book?"  I hold the brand new John Grisham paperback out toward the man.  He pauses and looks around as if maybe he will find himself being filmed for Candid Camera. 

"Free?" 

I smile.  "Yes, its free.  It's to celebrate World Book Night.  Enjoy!"  The man takes the book and thumbs through it.  He looks back at me.  No donation can?  No ulterior motive?  I'm just sitting in front of a coffee shop passing out brand new free books?  What's the catch?

No catch.  Just a free book to celebrate a love of reading.  "Wow, thanks a lot." he finally concedes.

World Book Night 2013 was lots of fun.  I loved giving away my 20 copies of a brand new book to total strangers.  I loved the surprised, then pleased look on people's faces when they received an unexpected, free gift.  Something for nothing.  Wow.

It took a while--I think many people hurrying by mumbling "No thanks" didn't believe it was free.  'Cause how often do we really get gifts for free?  Just yesterday I got a postcard in the mail saying I won 2 free airline tickets to anywhere in the US!  Did I start planning my next adventure?  No, I threw that card right in the recycle bucket.  I'm too skeptical.  There must have been a catch.

Skeptics aside, I was able to convince 20 people that I just wanted to give them a free book.  They stopped to chat.  Wanted to know more about World Book Night.  Reminisced about favorite books they had read.  Told me their own stories about sharing a love of reading. 

"Do you get paid for this?" one person asked me.  Nope.  That's OK.  I'm getting something for nothing too.

For more info, here's a link to the website:
http://www.us.worldbooknight.org/

Turtle Girls

I’m guessing the turtle sensed I was approaching before I saw her.  Did she see me?  Feel the vibrations of my bicycle on the asphalt?  I’m not sure.  As I crested the hill, there she was in the middle of the street.  It was early Sunday morning so I hadn’t yet seen anyone out and about.  Still, I worried.  I rode past her on the downhill, enjoying my break from pedaling and rounded the corner past my house to start the loop again. 

I was out early on the bike because my dear friend talked me into doing a triathlon with her to celebrate her 40^th birthday.  I rode up the other side of my neighborhood and back to the hill with the turtle.  She had made a little progress since I last saw her.  “Why did the turtle cross the road?” I thought with a smile.

I thought the triathlon would force me to be more adventurous.  Instead, I worried.  I worried about swimming in a crowded pool.  I worried about biking on a road open to traffic.  I worried about the heat in August.  And now, I was worried about a turtle.

The turtle wasn’t worried.  The third time I passed by I could tell that she had a goal to reach the shaded grass at the edge of the street. 

I didn’t used to be so uptight.  When Kristin and I met almost twenty years ago, life was an adventure.  We thought nothing of driving ten hours down to Alabama—roommates in a log cabin—to teach outdoor education.  Weekends were chances for new escapades.  One week we went camping with only the hats on our heads.  Another week we drank green beer in Savannah for St. Patrick’s Day. 

I find that my mind has wandered to the past and I’m almost surprised when I’m back to the turtle again.  It is getting later now and I consider moving her out of harm’s way, but I don’t.  I feel like that would be cheating her out of the satisfaction of reaching her goal.

Kristin and I were turtles once.  That time it was me who talked her into running a marathon.   We were young and healthy, we thought.  How hard could it be?  We made matching t-shirts that said, “Slow and steady finishes the race,” and painted turtles on the front.  “Go turtle girls,” the spectators shouted as we plodded by.  We found out that running 26 miles is harder than we thought…but we did it!

I don’t know what happened to the adventurous spirits we had.  We grew up, became mothers to our own children.  Now my motto is, “I can be spontaneous with 24 hours notice.”  Maybe that’s why competing in this triathlon meant so much to us.  Maybe we were trying to recapture some of our adventurous spirit—or prove that we still had it after all. 

Now my training brings me to the turtle.  Every time I ride by, I check on her progress.  She started to take on a symbolism for me.  “If she can reach her goal,” I thought, “so can I!”  Native Americans believed the turtle was a symbol of strength and perseverance.  When the turtle finally reached the edge, I felt privileged to witness her success.  She continued on into the grass where I lost sight of her.

My heart aches for the people in Boston today.  People sign up for a race for different reasons, goals and dreams.   No one dreams of losing a life or a limb or a loved one.  No one dreams that their race will end without a finish line.

This week I will run/walk 26.2 miles.  Not all at once.  Not fast.  Like a turtle.  Slowly but surely.  For the people of Boston.

Spring Break Revisited

Has it already been two weeks since Spring Break?  Yes, we are back in the swing of routine and remembering fondly...

Dyeing Easter Eggs...

  

 Checking out the wildlife in Grandma Shirley and Granddaddy's back yard...gotta love Hilton Head!

Thanks to Grandma Shirley and Granddaddy, Paul and I were able to sneak away for a night without kids in Savannah. 

And we finished up our week back in Richmond to celebrate Easter with friends.

Spring Break, I miss you already.  Thanks for a fun week of memories.