Flying Flexible
A commenter on a blog I frequent made the observation recently that joggers who don't run when they are sick suffer from psychosomatic symptoms. (They were discussing whether or not getting up and moving when you are sick helps you get better or makes you worse.) The commenter went on to imply that people who compulsively damage their bodies with jogging have some mental issues.
Since I am a compulsive jogger who has seen my body croak more and more under the stress I would agree with that, even though it is not very flattering. I went for a seven mile run again this morning, even though my plantar fasciitis is not healed. The podiatrist this week said that the inflammation is much better but now that I have injured it I will probably have issues the rest of my life. Lovely. But it will not hold me back from running. Not yet. I have permanent issues with my achilles, and my knees and hips don't exactly jump for joy with the jarring, but I won't quit. That does seem like either mental issues or a compulsion, doesn't it? Or that I must love running more than I love being pain-free?
No, I don't love running. Still. But I think I may be addicted to the endorphins. They are my natural anti-depressant and I depend on it now. Also, I am determined to outwit my heredity and our culture and keep my weight from skyrocketing again. I am at risk for type 2 diabetes and heart disease and I refuse to let my weight put me even more at risk. It is one of the few things I can control (more or less). And to my everlasting frustration, NOTHING seems to help control my weight like running does. (Trust me, if I could have as much success biking or swimming or doing aerobics I would stick with something less mind-numbing and painful!)
Anyway, my compulsion is not strictly with running (probably because I don't actually like it). My peace of mind depends on getting exercise nearly every day. I'm not satisfied unless I get in at least one hour, and I generally shoot for 90 minutes. But this fanaticism has taught me some much-needed lessons about flexibility. I couldn't manage this kind of regular workout schedule and raise five kids without some serious flexibility.
Adaptability is not one of my natural personality traits. I don't like change. I like my life to be in a regular routine, and I like to have things planned out ahead of time. Anyone who has kids knows that this becomes difficult (if not impossible) once you have kids. It's been tough for me. Oddly enough, it's been my crazy exercise demands that have helped me to roll with things better with parenting.
The first lessons came when I was training for my first triathlon. I was following a couch-to-sprint tri training schedule, which gave me certain amounts of training in swimming, biking, and running that I needed to do almost every day. (I only got one day a week as a rest day.) But to fit all of this in around my kids, gym schedules, and Terence meant some serious planning. Where did the flexibility come in? I couldn't have a "regular" work out schedule like I wanted, one where I placidly went to the gym between 9-10 am every day and fit it all in. There were days I got up before the sun to get in a run, days where my swim was rushed in between volunteering in M's class and picking her up from school, days where the bike ride had to be scheduled around Terence's work schedule.
But soon enough came more challenges than just fitting a training schedule into my day. What happens when the kids get sick and I can't take them to the gym? What happens when Terence gets called out and so isn't home when I'm supposed to go on a bike ride? What happens when someone has a doctor appointment (which requires a run up to the valley and jacks up my entire day)? What happens when I get sick? When I injure my achilles or my shoulder?
So many things that messed with my "routine." So many wrenches that would have given me excuses to throw in the towel, to skip it "just today, since things are so crazy." I had to learn how to adapt on the fly. Some things I learned how to work around. One year with my birthday money I bought a magnetic bike trainer (it's a kind of stand to stick your bike on so that you can pedal in place). Much cheaper than buying an exercise bike, but now I can get in time on my bike without leaving my living room if need be. I've taught myself some exercises I can use with Terence's weight bench in the garage if I can't get to the gym for my weight training. I have walking videos that I can use to get in a "run" if I can't get outside. I try to mix things up to give whatever body part is currently injured a rest. (Something is always injured nowadays.)
But the most helpful thing I've gotten experience is mental flexibility. Like I've said, change is hard for me. When my day doesn't go like I planned, I start to get gloomy and depressed-- which unchecked will ruin my whole day. But I'm getting better at tacking to catch a new mental wind when a change comes up, if that makes sense. Thursday was a good example of this. My normal schedule included a trip to the gym after dropping the older kids off at school. I planned to do intervals on the elliptical machine, weight training, and some time on the rowing machine and stairmaster (yes, I really mix it up). But my plans were immediately complicated when I realized that M was having her cottage fair during school that morning and I needed to be back at the school at 9 am. This threw me for a minute, but I chucked out the blues and mentally debated a few options. In the end I'd decided I'd go to the gym for a shorter workout (probably just the weights, maybe a little cardio) and then return to the school. But then on the way to school, S started coughing. A wet, phlegmy cough. Looking back, I saw that her nose was running down her face. Strike two. No gym for me, not if S was coming down with yet another cold.
This was a tougher blow. Mentally I was reeling a bit. I had an insane day ahead, including the dentist for M, piano lessons and treats to make for the kids' end of quarter parties, as well as M's cottage fair. If I couldn't get in a workout in the morning, what was I going to do?
This tempted me to just throw in the towel, and my mood was starting to turn black. But then I rallied, refusing to give up just yet. So after dropping the kids off at school, we went to a nearby park where K and S played on the playground while I ran in circles for 30 minutes around the playground. Later, after M's cottage fair, I snuck in 30 minutes of weights in the garage before having to turn around and go back to pick up the kids. Not only did I get my endorphin high, I got a huge sense of satisfaction for still managing a workout under difficult circumstances.
Flexibility. It's a fabulous thing!
Since I am a compulsive jogger who has seen my body croak more and more under the stress I would agree with that, even though it is not very flattering. I went for a seven mile run again this morning, even though my plantar fasciitis is not healed. The podiatrist this week said that the inflammation is much better but now that I have injured it I will probably have issues the rest of my life. Lovely. But it will not hold me back from running. Not yet. I have permanent issues with my achilles, and my knees and hips don't exactly jump for joy with the jarring, but I won't quit. That does seem like either mental issues or a compulsion, doesn't it? Or that I must love running more than I love being pain-free?
No, I don't love running. Still. But I think I may be addicted to the endorphins. They are my natural anti-depressant and I depend on it now. Also, I am determined to outwit my heredity and our culture and keep my weight from skyrocketing again. I am at risk for type 2 diabetes and heart disease and I refuse to let my weight put me even more at risk. It is one of the few things I can control (more or less). And to my everlasting frustration, NOTHING seems to help control my weight like running does. (Trust me, if I could have as much success biking or swimming or doing aerobics I would stick with something less mind-numbing and painful!)
Anyway, my compulsion is not strictly with running (probably because I don't actually like it). My peace of mind depends on getting exercise nearly every day. I'm not satisfied unless I get in at least one hour, and I generally shoot for 90 minutes. But this fanaticism has taught me some much-needed lessons about flexibility. I couldn't manage this kind of regular workout schedule and raise five kids without some serious flexibility.
Adaptability is not one of my natural personality traits. I don't like change. I like my life to be in a regular routine, and I like to have things planned out ahead of time. Anyone who has kids knows that this becomes difficult (if not impossible) once you have kids. It's been tough for me. Oddly enough, it's been my crazy exercise demands that have helped me to roll with things better with parenting.
The first lessons came when I was training for my first triathlon. I was following a couch-to-sprint tri training schedule, which gave me certain amounts of training in swimming, biking, and running that I needed to do almost every day. (I only got one day a week as a rest day.) But to fit all of this in around my kids, gym schedules, and Terence meant some serious planning. Where did the flexibility come in? I couldn't have a "regular" work out schedule like I wanted, one where I placidly went to the gym between 9-10 am every day and fit it all in. There were days I got up before the sun to get in a run, days where my swim was rushed in between volunteering in M's class and picking her up from school, days where the bike ride had to be scheduled around Terence's work schedule.
But soon enough came more challenges than just fitting a training schedule into my day. What happens when the kids get sick and I can't take them to the gym? What happens when Terence gets called out and so isn't home when I'm supposed to go on a bike ride? What happens when someone has a doctor appointment (which requires a run up to the valley and jacks up my entire day)? What happens when I get sick? When I injure my achilles or my shoulder?
So many things that messed with my "routine." So many wrenches that would have given me excuses to throw in the towel, to skip it "just today, since things are so crazy." I had to learn how to adapt on the fly. Some things I learned how to work around. One year with my birthday money I bought a magnetic bike trainer (it's a kind of stand to stick your bike on so that you can pedal in place). Much cheaper than buying an exercise bike, but now I can get in time on my bike without leaving my living room if need be. I've taught myself some exercises I can use with Terence's weight bench in the garage if I can't get to the gym for my weight training. I have walking videos that I can use to get in a "run" if I can't get outside. I try to mix things up to give whatever body part is currently injured a rest. (Something is always injured nowadays.)
But the most helpful thing I've gotten experience is mental flexibility. Like I've said, change is hard for me. When my day doesn't go like I planned, I start to get gloomy and depressed-- which unchecked will ruin my whole day. But I'm getting better at tacking to catch a new mental wind when a change comes up, if that makes sense. Thursday was a good example of this. My normal schedule included a trip to the gym after dropping the older kids off at school. I planned to do intervals on the elliptical machine, weight training, and some time on the rowing machine and stairmaster (yes, I really mix it up). But my plans were immediately complicated when I realized that M was having her cottage fair during school that morning and I needed to be back at the school at 9 am. This threw me for a minute, but I chucked out the blues and mentally debated a few options. In the end I'd decided I'd go to the gym for a shorter workout (probably just the weights, maybe a little cardio) and then return to the school. But then on the way to school, S started coughing. A wet, phlegmy cough. Looking back, I saw that her nose was running down her face. Strike two. No gym for me, not if S was coming down with yet another cold.
This was a tougher blow. Mentally I was reeling a bit. I had an insane day ahead, including the dentist for M, piano lessons and treats to make for the kids' end of quarter parties, as well as M's cottage fair. If I couldn't get in a workout in the morning, what was I going to do?
This tempted me to just throw in the towel, and my mood was starting to turn black. But then I rallied, refusing to give up just yet. So after dropping the kids off at school, we went to a nearby park where K and S played on the playground while I ran in circles for 30 minutes around the playground. Later, after M's cottage fair, I snuck in 30 minutes of weights in the garage before having to turn around and go back to pick up the kids. Not only did I get my endorphin high, I got a huge sense of satisfaction for still managing a workout under difficult circumstances.
Flexibility. It's a fabulous thing!
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