New Year’s Cliché - I have seventeen pounds to lose

Here we are again… all wrapped up in New Year’s Eve and its obligatory resolutions. This particular New Year’s holds special meaning for me. 2011 was a year of massive change globally and massive change for my husband and me personally. We sold our house, moved twice, bought another house, got pregnant, lost our beloved dog, Elvin, and welcomed our son, Sky, into the world. Our family and physical surroundings look nothing like they did at the beginning of the year. 2011 picked us up in one place and dropped us somewhere entirely different when it was done.

Usually, at this time of year, I spend a lot of time preaching to new clients about setting small, unquestionably attainable goals. If they want to set a loftier one, I ask them to get very specific about why that particular goal is achievable for them. I am not easily convinced. More often than not, large, challenging goals are forgotten and abandoned by January 15^th, so I prefer to help them reach for one or two small goals, followed by something bigger and more exciting when they are ready. Walking around with one small success under your belt is a lot more empowering than walking around with a big failure. Teeny tiny changes are usually best and can make an enormous difference in the long run. If you walk 15 minutes every day, you can add years to your life. You might not lose much weight, but it will make a big difference. If you can eat one extra piece of fruit per day, you will be healthier for it.

Small goals are easy. Larger ones require a serious gut check. Just exactly why do you believe you can lose that fifty pounds this time around?! The answer doesn't have to be pretty, but it has to be honest and powerful enough that you can fall back on it in your weakest moments. It has to matter a whole hell of a lot.

This year I am setting what feels like an enormous goal for myself. Eight weeks after giving birth to my son, I have seventeen pounds to lose. This is real weight, not the easy baby weight that drifts off in the first few weeks after delivery. The seventeen pounds is made up of nine pounds gained during pregnancy along with eight pounds I was unhappily carrying before getting pregnant.

This extra weight weighs heavy on my heart, not because of how my clothes fit or how I appear to others. It represents a symptom of motherhood that I have always been determined to avoid... the weight itself, but even more so, the never-ending mind trip over bad body image. I'm tired of the whole game. I can feel the body I want to inhabit, and it is not currently residing here. Fortunately, I have come to know lots of amazing, fit moms who I can emulate. I would probably tell a client in my situation to shoot for the initial nine pounds first, to get back to the pre-pregnancy weight and then shoot for the extra eight. But that would defeat my motivation. The body with eight extra pounds on it is no motivation at all for me. This is about identifying who I want to be in this new role of mom. It’s about who I want to be in my life going forward now that everything is irrevocably different.

As I have stated before on this blog, motherhood is a strange beast to me. I’m not sure who this Sarah-mother person is. Clearly I am in transition, and this is a moment when I get to rediscover myself as I watch Sky grow and develop. I love my son, but this transformation is about me too and part of who I want to be for myself and for him is someone light, lithe, and strong. I do not want to go into motherhood weighed down by seventeen pounds or even eight.

This particular moment is not about cutting myself a break. It’s about demanding more of myself. If I were counseling a client, I would tell her that a reasonable time frame for this lofty goal would be the end of April, sixteen weeks from now. So I will maintain reasonable expectations on that front, though I would much prefer that it go faster. Of course, I will report back, win or lose, on my progress.

I am learning a lot about my clients as I face this hurdle. I am learning that I could counsel them better, help them to dig deep and find out why and how to reach their goals. Perhaps in 2012, I will learn to push them harder after I have pushed myself and to help them reach their grander goals in the long run.

Whatever your situation, whatever your resolution, I wish you clarity and focus in the New Year to make 2012 a banner year. It will only happen once, so let’s make the most of it.

Welcome to the world, Mr. Sky!

Thanks to all my readers for your patience while I'm out on maternity leave.

I promise you this little guy is worth it.

There is Power in Powerlessness… But Damn If It Doesn’t Hurt

I mentioned “powerlessness” in my last post. That word has pounded my days relentlessly for the last few weeks. Powerlessness hurts. Screaming and yelling and grasping for an element of control that is long gone only brings additional pain and suffering. The inability to believe that you have lost control over something you hold dear is beyond comprehension, and yet there is it… plain as day.

Two things… One, my beloved Elvin has been missing for 16 days. I stare at maps and rack my brain to uncover where he might be. The stretches of streets and homes stare back at me blankly, not giving any clues. I have no power. All I can do is keep stepping forward, keep putting out the word that we have not given up, and keep leaning on the people who so generously offer up a strong shoulder.

Two, I am about to go into labor and have this baby. Don’t worry... no gory details here. Just a simple acknowledgement that I am also powerless in this regard. I cannot determine when or how this baby will arrive. I cannot determine what it will do to my body, how I will get through it, or how hard or easy it will be on the baby. But I can decide to recognize my powerlessness yet again and surrender to the inevitability of time, physical pain, and his imminent arrival.

I know that there are people around the world facing unimaginable loss and suffering, and I don’t pretend to compare my situation to theirs. This is just what I have to offer.

Within powerlessness, there is a choice. Panic or release. I cannot bring a child into the world in a state of panic. So my new word, the only word I have left, is “release”. There is no choice but to release, and this does not mean giving up

I hope with every ounce of my being that Elvin will return home, and I hope that my baby’s arrival brings far more joy than pain. That’s all I can do. Release and wait.

If you want more information on Elvin or on the amazing rescue organization helping us look for him, please visit www.campchaos37206.org.

El eagerly opening his stocking - Christmas morning 2010

Lessons Learned from a Lost Puppy

I have learned a few things in the past nine days since my 11-year-old, baby boy pit bull, Elvin, went missing. I have learned a grief that cannot be articulated. I have learned the art of managing a panic attack at 2 in the morning. I have learned what it means for loss and powerlessness to permeate everything.

Sadly, I have learned that there are people in the world that take pleasure in other people’s pain and in the pain of helpless animals. I have seen the depths of poverty and hopelessness in a city that has largely avoided the worst of this awful recession.

Joyfully, I have learned that my husband is my greatest companion and solace. Though shaken to the depths of sadness as completely as I am, he will not be found anywhere but by my side, loving and sheltering me, our unborn son, and our lost Elvin to the best of his ability.

But the greatest lesson I have learned is that there are kind, concerned, supportive, selfless, and profoundly generous people everywhere I turn… the most surprising of whom, I had never met before. The outpouring of support from the community I live in has been absolutely stunning. The organization of people who love animals and spend every day of every week doing everything they can to protect them in my neighborhood is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Friends and strangers are giving their time and resources day after day, encouraging us to press on and not give up.

Before all of this, I thought my love for animals was verging on bizarre. I thought I was some kind of freak for the way my heart swells at the sound of a thirsty dog lapping eagerly at a clean bowl of water or breaks as I helplessly watch a starving, homeless kitten cowering under a broken down car. I am thrilled this week to learn that I am not alone.

I am humbled by the kindness and compassion of everyone who has stepped up to help us. I have learned that I don’t give enough, and that is about to change. I just want to say thank you. I have no words to express how much it means, but we are blessed to be surrounded by so much love and support. Elvin thanks you too… wherever he is.

Please call 615-228-1130 with info.

More pics and description can be seen at www.campchaos37206.org.

Because It Makes You Feel Better... That's Why.

A few years ago, a dear friend of mine named Michael passed away suddenly in his sleep from an undiagnosed heart defect. He was 38 years old. He had a one year old and a pregnant wife in bed next to him when his heart stopped. He ran 3 to 4 miles daily, ate well, and had an optimistic, low-stress temperament. He was one of the most naturally positive, compassionate, life-affirming people I have ever known. After his funeral, a client of mine - and mutual friend of his - was bereft.

“What’s the point?!” She wanted to know. “What the hell is the point of exercising and eating right all the time when your heart can give out on you any time anyway? Why not just eat what you want and not bother getting all sweaty and exhausted at the gym.” She struggled with her weight and motivation to exercise her whole life and couldn’t see the point anymore. It was a good question; one that I had to think twice about in the haze of such a sudden and heartbreaking loss.

As I considered her question, I had to ask myself, “Would Michael take back his healthy lifestyle if he knew he would pass away so young? Did he do it because he thought it would help him live longer or did he do it because of how it made him feel?” I believe I can safely say that he would not have changed a thing.

Michael would not have preferred to be 20 lbs heavier in exchange for those many hours spent running. He would not have chosen a Big Mac over his grilled fish soft tacos. I’m sure living a long life was part of his motivation, but more than that, the way he took care of himself while he was alive had a profound and immediate impact on the way he felt every day.

Proper diet and exercise habits can certainly extend life for many people, but the point is not longevity. The point is positively influencing how we feel on all of the days that we are alive, how we feel inside of our own skin, how easily we can climb a flight of stairs or get up off of the floor after playing with our puppies/babies.

Exercising and eating right boosts your mood, gives you more energy, helps you sleep better, improves concentration and focus, and increases confidence levels which can directly impact your working and personal life. Of course, being fit also improves your appearance, impacting everything from your muscle tone to your complexion.

Exercise helps us feel better, and isn’t that the point? To feel good? That’s why we do it. Most of us aren’t out there competing in Iron Man Triathalons, and there’s no compelling reason why you should if that’s not your thing. Exercise might help you live a little longer, but that’s a tough thing to remember sometimes when you are choosing between sleeping another hour or getting up to jog around the block.

Move your body because you have one. Use it. Find activities that make you feel good, even if that just means taking a stroll at lunch time. Simple, restorative, energetic activity can improve your quality of life, and if that means living a little bit longer, bring it on.

Is Your Workout Worth Your Time?

In short, the answer is always YES! No matter how brief or low-intensity, any physical activity during your day can contribute to your longevity and wellbeing. However, if you want to increase your fitness level, you can probably do more for greater results.

I met with a client the other day who has been working out for years, faithfully going to the gym, getting on the treadmill and elliptical for 45 minutes three times a week, occasionally using weight machines… and staying exactly the same weight year after year. It’s a common story.

If you are working out consistently for longer than three months and you feel like your progress has stalled, you are not pushing yourself hard enough or getting enough variation to force your body to grow stronger. You may very well be doing enough to maintain your current physique and cardiovascular fitness, and if that is your goal, then you are absolutely doing the right thing. However, if you are looking for increased fitness, you will have to challenge yourself and vary your workouts in order to keep advancing. It's hard and sweaty but well worth the effort.

There are a couple of indicators to let you know whether or not you are pushing yourself hard enough. Measure them regularly to keep track of your progress.

1. Soreness – You are looking for happy soreness, not painful, injury-induced soreness. Soreness should occur in your muscles but not in your joints, and you should not experience shooting pain of any kind. The ache of a good sore muscle usually occurs 24-48 hours after exertion. You should get sore when you begin a new workout program or when you increase your intensity as needed. Depending on the plan you are following, this can happen anywhere from every two weeks to every two months, but if you are not sore… ever… something is wrong. You are not working hard enough to challenge your muscles. You are too strong for your current regime. Take it up a notch!

2. Breathing – The conventional wisdom is that sedentary people, beginners, or casual exercisers should be able to carry on a conversation while engaged in cardiovascular activity like walking, jogging, or riding a bike. You should be able to talk but not sing. If you are singing as you stroll, you are not going fast enough. People with greater training experience can shoot a little higher. They can make it a goal to reach a level of exertion where they have some difficulty forming complete sentences but are able to get out a few words here and there between breaths.

3. Heart rate – Know your maximum heart rate and your target heart rate range. Bear with me here for a minute while we do some math. The easiest way to figure out your max heart rate is to subtract your age from 220 (ex. 220 – 35 = 185 beats per minute). Moderate exercise is 70-85% of your maximum heart rate. So, a 35-year-old person with a maximum heart rate of 185 bpm would want to keep his or her heart rate between 129 and 157 bpm while exercising. To find out what your current heart rate is, take your pulse for 10 seconds and multiply by 6. You can also get a watch with a heart rate monitor or use the monitors built into the handle bars of most commercial cardiovascular machines.

FYI, there is a new study from Ohio State University out this month suggesting a different maximum heart rate calculation exclusively for women. They recommend women calculate 206 minus 88% of your age. For a woman age 35, her maximum would be 175 bpm with a target heart rate range of 122 to 149 for moderate exercise. High intensity heart rates could be higher, but should stay below your personal maximum. Figure out your numbers once, and keep track a few times while you are exercising. Eventually, you will know your own body well enough to tell easily if you are in the appropriate heart rate zone.

4. Measurements – What your measurements are and how your clothes fit are better representations of changing fitness than weight. Instead of hopping on the scale everyday, consider asking a friend to measure your hips, waist, bust, and the widest part of your upper arm and thigh once a month in order to measure your progress. Whether or not you lose weight, your shape could be changing. Also, remember that dietary habits have everything to do with losing weight and keeping it off, so if your goal is weight loss, you will probably need to take a hard look at your diet and find places where excess calories can be cut. If your goal is overall fitness, set the scale aside and measure your progress by how you feel and how your clothes fit.

All of that said, some form of exercise is always better than none. A ten-minute walk every day is so much better than no walk at all. Take the above tips only if you are seriously interested in increasing your fitness level. Otherwise, make your goals much more manageable. Find ways to stay active whenever you can: garden, do crunches while you watch TV, walk around the block at lunchtime, park far away from the entrance to the movie theater, and take the stairs whenever possible. All of it is worth your while.

Please tweet or email me any questions, and I will do my best to answer!

@sarahhayscoomer

sarah@strengthoutsidein.com

Hold On For Dear Life or Jump?

Pregnancy sucks. Sorry for the lack of sunshiny teddy bear visions, but it does. I am not a fan. The following post is ostensibly about my trepidation over pregnancy because that happens to be the ordeal I am currently facing, but, more than that, it’s about the way we fight the challenges and changes in our bodies and lives… or not. Do we hold on for dear life or jump?

I have spent my entire adult life clinging to my independence and loathing the thought of pregnancy, but seven months ago, faced with a loving husband who would be broken-hearted if he never had the chance to be a Dad, I held my breath and made the choice to get knocked up. I jumped. It could be an adventure, right? I knew that once the deed was done, I would have no option but to see it through and hoped that, once impregnated, the prospect of motherhood might become less terrifying. No such luck.

Now, eight weeks out from my due date, the changes that are coming to my body, my life, and my household ache with palpable inevitability. The physical changes are inescapable, but it turns out that I do have a choice. I can claw and scratch to stay at the cliff’s edge where I easily understand my world, mourning the loss of my old life… childless, freewheeling, and exceedingly happy with the status quo. Or I can release the breath I began holding seven months ago and allow the changes to wash over me like a wave. As the days tick by, I am increasingly aware that holding on for dear life will bring me nothing but suffering.

My growing belly tells me that my body is going to make this transition whether I like it or not. My body is taking the lead, showing me the way forward as usual. “Strength Outside In” is my mantra after all. The body and external behavior patterns are the tangible stuff of life. They are the things that have always moved me forward when my mind just can’t seem to shake itself loose.

At this point, the belly is big, and the baby boy is kicking. I need to release him and myself. I have to let this kid out, get out of his way, and allow myself to become what I need to be in order to help him survive and grow. I am at a loss to know who this upcoming mother-person will be, but I do know that my heart and mind will follow the changes in my external life if I can allow them the space to swell and contract with the ebb and flow of new motherhood. The glimmers of excitement are already beginning to arise, and the more I loosen my grip, the more they show themselves.

As I was reminded by a Pete Seeger documentary on PBS the other day (yes, I’m a nerd), “To everything, turn, turn, turn; there is a season, turn, turn, turn.” I have no doubt that this particular season is going to rip me apart… physically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. But I do get to choose how to respond, and I am choosing wholeheartedly to take the plunge, ride the wave, and see what becomes of me when I wash up on shore in the aftermath. Whatever happens, I have no doubt that I will be stronger for having taken the leap, overcome one of the greatest fears of my life, and welcomed into the world a little guy who, I'm sure, has a lot to teach me.

What cliff’s edge are you stuck on? Are you ready to jump? Consider catching a wave, and see where you land.

Dear Friend, Get Bariatric Surgery and Give Us All of Your Money

I received a letter in the mail recently from HCA/TriStar Health System, touting the wonders of bariatric surgery. The headline states boldly in red, “The more you lose, the more you win”, and the letter begins, “Dear Friend”.

My “friend” goes on to tell me “One of the worst consequences of being overweight or suffering from obesity is that quality of life suffers. Enjoying life’s simple pleasures – traveling, experiencing the outdoors or being socially active and meeting new people – can be difficult when living with this disease. If obesity is affecting your life or the life of someone you love, TriStar Health System can help. Our surgeons are experts in a variety of minimally invasive bariatric surgical procedures, including: gastric bypass, gastric banding, sleeve gastrectomy… Think of everything you have to gain when you decide you are ready to lose!”

This was sent to me, not based on a doctor’s recommendation, not because I am working with a psychiatrist or a nutritionist or trying to overcome morbid obesity. It was sent to me merely based on the fact that HCA has my mailing address because my doctor practices under their umbrella. It has nothing to do with my medical needs. In fact, it even says “If obesity is affecting your life or the life of someone you love...” Who doesn’t have someone they love who is affected by obesity?! Their marketing team is counting on that, and therefore this letter is suddenly, miraculously relevant to every patient in their purview.

I know lots of obese people, most of whom do not have difficultly “experiencing the outdoors” or “meeting new people”. Most of them are working tirelessly to achieve a healthy weight, or they have made peace with their bodies as they are. If the extra weight is dangerous, their doctors and counselors should be the ones to help them decide which interventions are best… not an advertising mailer made out to “Dear Friend.”

Call me old fashioned, but I find this kind of shameless, money-grubbing, condescending advertising to be totally and utterly disgusting. HCA/TriStar Health System should be ashamed of themselves. Instead of spending their money on marketing flyers and postage, they should donate a few hundred thousand dollars to healthy school lunch programs or food banks. Then maybe I would be proud to be one of their patients and happy to refer my friends and family for their services. Shame on you, HCA. Shame.

But I Can Be Perfect! Tomorrow.

Any of you who know me well have heard my mantra about setting small, easily-achievable goals. Just a couple of blog posts ago in Set, Point, Match, I was ranting about setting a goal you know you can reach and then hanging out there for a while, getting accustomed to how that new behavior or the new body feels in space before moving on to bigger, more exciting goals. And my last post was about our need for Quick Fix Clutter and how the resulting, inevitable failure can lead down a rabbit hole of obsession and insecurity.

Well, along those lines, Dr. Will Aguila has recently posted a brilliant blog on Huffington Post about The Link Between Obesity and Perfectionism. In reference to himself and others struggling with obesity, he says, "We're not the lazy procrastinating, passive-agressive people that many think we are. We set very high, sometimes unreachable, standards for ourselves... When we find we cannot achieve our goals, we stop trying because we fear failure."

His post is extremely insightful. I see it all the time in myself and my clients. It's the impulse that prompts you to go from pizza at the office party to skipping your workout because... well, you blew it with the pizza, so why bother? You'll just have some ice cream tonight and start fresh tomorrow. Oh yeah, and might as well have some chocolate sauce and a cookie with that since today is blown anyway. The next morning your clothes feel a little too tight, and you know you won't make your weight loss goal for the week. You feel low-energy and depressed, so your diet and workout plans suffer that day too. Rinse and repeat.

Dr. Aguila's point is that perfectionism can drive us all directly down the path of obesity. We must give ourselves a break, set goals we can achieve, and give ourselves a healthy reward if we get there. Small changes are the ones that change lives and bodies permanently. Reaching too far, too fast will likely only lead to crash-and-burn failure and even more unwanted weight gain.

I implore you to give yourself a break. Only then can you see clearly and discover exactly which goals make sense in the long run.

Quick Fix Clutter... had enough already?!

I am soooo very tired of reading about the latest, NEWLY IMPROVED, SUPER-FAST way to lose weight. I've been seeing a lot of this junk on twitter lately. These obnoxious, grandiose weight loss promises are exhausting. Can we just stop for a second and take a look at the track record, take a minute to consider how fad diets have worked out for us all?

The diet/fitness craze that started in the eighties has continued ad nauseam through today. Meanwhile, over those thirty years, adult obesity has doubled and childhood obesity has tripled - http://1.usa.gov/gY12RG.

Something is very wrong here. Extreme manipulation of our bodies clearly does not lead to a healthier life; it leads to obsession and insecurity, which, in turn, lead to depression, overeating, isolation, and lack of physical activity. Super-sized portions and endless hours in front of flashing screens don't help either. We are surrounded by body-centric, quick fix clutter. Can we tune this crap out, please? Stop buying it so they will stop selling it? Maybe then I could stop choking on it like a cat with a hairball.

There is no quick fix. Everybody knows that, whether they want to believe it or not. We need to simplify, re-engage... eat things that are living instead of boxed, find out what the air outside feels like, take a walk with a friend... rediscover the ever-shrinking parts of life that are not filled with pre-packaged, plastic, electronically-operated, bullshit-infused distractions.

I've been staring at the computer screen for too long.

So with that, I am signing off from this lighted box and going to bed to listen to my dog chasing tennis balls in his sleep and my dreams calling me back to the hills of California.

A New Right to Free Birth Control

This is huge, HUGE news. As of August 2012, all American women will have the preventive care and birth control that they need and deserve. The world of healthcare and insurance coverage can look awfully bleak at times, but this time we get to rise up and cheer!

"U.S. health insurance companies must offer women free birth control and other preventive health care services under rules released on Monday... The health department's guidelines followed the IOM's recommendations to require free screening for gestational diabetes, testing for human papillomavirus in women over 30, counseling for HIV and sexually transmitted infections, lactation counseling, screening for domestic violence and yearly wellness visits." - Yahoo News

http://news.yahoo.com/federal-health-department-approves-free-birth-control-women-143218278.html

Set Point Match

I am currently taking up more space in the world than I am accustomed to. This is not a fun feeling. In spite of my increased size being totally natural and necessary to make room for a little human, it feels disconcerting and strange to be so BIG all of a sudden.

Everybody develops a comfort zone at a certain weight, a set amount of space we are used to taking up in the world, a set point that feels familiar if not necessarily ideal. To change that set point feels odd, off kilter. Whether it is the result of weight gain or loss, the change is disconcerting and requires adjustment to remain in the new space, but eventually we get used to it. I am keenly aware of this as my body expands daily. My clients also struggle with it as they work to familiarize themselves with how their bodies feel in space after significant weight loss. Especially in weight loss, the body and mind want to pull you back to your customary set point. It feels easy and natural to drift peacefully back up to your customary weight.

My set point is generally about ten pounds heavier than I would like it to be. When left to drift aimlessly, without any effort or control, I will always come back to that same weight. Whether I'm approaching from it higher or lower, I always float back.

Why that particular set point and not another? Why not ten pounds down or twenty pounds up?

It's a warm and cozy combination of my habitual eating patterns, the portion sizes I have grown accustomed to, and the workout intensity I gravitate towards. It has to do with my overall daily activity level, the number of errands I run in a week, the number of clients I see, and the hours spent writing. It is neither good nor bad, neither terribly healthy nor unhealthy. It's just, plain middle of the road and seems to be how I roll when I'm not paying attention.

So what I would like to know is... when this ballooning belly is gone, when my set point has been upended for nine months, can I reset it where I wish?! Most of the time, we are busy allowing our set points to settle up ten pounds or so. But I've also seen the opposite happen... women so happy to have endured a pregnancy or men so happy to have overcome an injury that they want to feel as fit as possible. While it's up in the air, who's to say I can't reset it downward 10 pounds to that lovely, ideal hot bod in the sky? A girl can dream, right?

I'll have to wait to find out, but in the meantime, I challenge you to discover your set point. Figure out where you land naturally. Evaluate whether it makes you happy and how long it has been established. Then consider how it would feel to take up a different amount of space in the world. See if you can take your set point down 5 pounds. Take it down in your mind and in your body. Make the new weight, the new space, into the only acceptable option. Just like the limit on your credit card... there's only so far you can go before they shut you down. Shut yourself down a little earlier than usual.

Take it down, and match it for a while. Match that small change until it feels inevitable. Then, maybe, if you feel like it, evaluate your space all over again and find out if your new set point is a match for the long haul.

Death and dying and what happens after that

My friends, clients, and I seem to be doing a lot of birthing these days. In the midst of all of that birth, I cannot help but notice a growing sense of something dying.

There isn't much in the world that terrifies me more than the prospect of giving birth, but I understand that somehow, inevitably, through the fire of pain and suffering will come the transformation of an existing life and the beginning of a new one. However, whether I like it or not, for that transformation to happen, something has to die.

One of the first clients I ever had was a woman married to her own terrible self-image. She was absolutely convinced that she was an unattractive mess and would end up fat and alone no matter what she did. She showed up for her workouts but diligently destroyed her own progress with multiple In N' Out Burgers and whole packages of cookies. I chipped away at her with tireless encouragement, but after three years of working together, it became clear that she was determined to take that broken, unsubstantiated, negative self-image to the grave. She flatly refused to re-identify herself even a little bit, and in spite of some promising opportunities and growing physical strength, she always found a way to tumble backwards down the rabbit hole. She couldn't allow her old way of thinking to die in order to make room for unexplored possibilities.

So as I approach this new birth I have to ask myself... what needs to die? My fear of hideous physical pain, for one, will have to be faced, overcome, and left to shrivel. Second, my childless self will drift away like a puff of smoke, and I have no earthly clue what will appear in its place. It's a gift really, an adventure that will leave me with a depth of vision I cannot as of yet imagine. Stretching into unknown, terrifying experiences generally does deepen and enhance... at least in my experience. So here I go... death and birth all wrapped up into one undeniable event.

Beyond all of that, I would like to be able to choose death more often when it is less obvious and inevitable. I would like to choose the death, forever and always, of the woman who feels the need to eat for comfort or distraction, replacing her with someone who knows the magnificence of her own body and the nourishing role of food.

I would like to help my clients choose to walk into the death of their own destructive habits and self-images, watching them crumble and die; finding a glimmer of something new buried in the ashes.

Let it die, people. Walk away. Give birth to new life.

8 million people and counting

NBC News reported today that an estimated 8 million Americans suffer from eating disorders, and patients over the age of 35 have increased 42% since 2001. - http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032619/vp/43647591#43647591

EIGHT MILLION AMERICANS... and those are just the cases of reported, diagnosed, clinical eating disorders. Aren't these things supposed to be getting better, not worse?! That doesn't even include the additional millions with low body image and emotional eating habits. These issues can strike at any age, any time, and for many people they represent a lifelong battle.

According to a survey published in the May 2008 issue of SELF magazine, 65% of women ages 25-45 consider themselves to have disordered eating. I'm going to yell again... SIXTY-FIVE FRIGGIN' PERCENT! This is a vastly under-reported, under-addressed problem. It is so unnecessary, and we are passing it down from generation to generation. It makes me sad and incredibly frustrated that so many people are suffering with eating, what should be a joyful part of life.

I ask my clients to start by giving themselves a break and taking stock of all the amazing things their bodies accomplish every day: working, driving, communicating effectively, even breathing. All of these things are accomplished with the help of nutrition... food. It is a partner, not an enemy. So try to start by eating a piece of fresh fruit every day this summer. Small steps go a long way in the long run. Give your body a little bit of what it needs, and over time, it will yearn for more.

In the meantime, let's give ourselves a break and give everybody else a break too. If there is a heavy woman on the beach who you might not expect to see in a bathing suit, instead of judging her, celebrate her for having the confidence to enjoy her life and not give a damn what anybody else thinks.

Losing track of time

Have you lost track of time lately? I know everybody has these moments, times when hours pass totally unnoticed, when you become so completely engrossed in what you are doing that everything else disappears... including worries about how your jeans fit or when you'll be able to get your next french fry fix.

A suggestion... take a few minutes to go back over the timeline of your life. Start back when you were a kid taking horseback riding lessons, hitting a drum, or drawing pictures for hours and hours. Start at the beginning, and go year-by-year. The details will become surprisingly clear as you go along. With each passing school year or each job or new city, try to pinpoint what sent you flying off in the direction of genuine inspiration and distraction.

It could be as simple as a season that brings you to life. For me, it's summer. Every time summer breaks out, hot and bathed in sunlight, I am, without a doubt, clearer and more alive. I take more walks in the summer, something I could easily do more of during the rest of the year to clear my head and lift my spirits. Or it could be an activity as small as playing piano or reading for sheer pleasure. Find that thing, and the next time you lose track of time, take notice. These are the moments when our bodies are free of stress and strain, when they can heal and grow. Try to build more of those moments into your days, and you will be surprised to find your body growing healthier and stronger without much effort.

Just a suggestion.

Unanticipated Body Love

Okay, I am pregnant.

Hopefully, this explains my silence over the last couple of months. Call it shock, call it a fear of miscarriage... whatever it may be, I was unable to write or communicate for the better part of three months. I am returning to the land of the living now, and I am returning with unexpected lessons learned.

In all of my angst-ridden twenties, all of the years I spent deeply fearing pregnancy, fearing the implications on my body, how much weight I would gain, how I would never get my body back... in all of those years, it never occurred to me that pregnancy might teach me once and for all not to give a flying fuck what people think about my body. In fact, I never considered that it would teach me anything about much of anything, except how to endure seemingly eternal pain, suffering, and exhaustion.

I don't have any interest in being a pregnancy blogger. However, I can't help but share what this strange and bizarrely natural process is teaching me about nutrition and overall health. So far, aside from not giving a flying fuck what people think, which is lovely by the way, I have learned three extremely valuable things that I hope I can carry with me for the rest of my life.

1) Food is for growth and nourishment. I have always understood in theory that food is fuel and should be utilized and valued as such. But somehow it always came back to being about boredom and control, self-medicating and quelling loneliness, a sugar rush and a nice satisfying Serotonin bath. In pregnancy, there is constant awareness of exactly what is needed at the moment, and there are immediate results if I have fed my body the wrong or the right thing. Food is fuel, powerful and necessary, and the body is going to use that fuel down to its most minuscule resource.

2) There is a time for rest, a time to give yourself a break. I am a trainer. It is my job to push people to the limits, to help them break through their boundaries to reach a higher level of strength and endurance. But when the workout is done, in order to build muscle, recovery time is needed. Rest is a crucial part of the equation. In pregnancy, there is no option. A pregnant woman is called upon to rest, and there is no negotiating . She must lie down and close her eyes or people will die: car accidents will happen and baby-daddies will be destroyed. Rest is an imperative for health, pregnant or not. I have learned to take heed, to pay attention when rest is needed and to make time for it. I have learned to let go of the guilt of taking a few moments for rest and to enjoy it, fully and apologetically. The remainder of the day will be so much more productive for having taken it.

3) If you listen hard enough, your body will tell you when the resting time is over. After days or weeks of down time, you will begin to twitch and ache for movement. You will find yourself squirming in your office chair and unable to sleep at night for all of the tossing and turning. If you ignore the call for motion, you will slowly grow lethargic and immovable. This is the moment you must get up and go for a walk, head to the gym, or call a friend to go out dancing. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to get going. Give your body what it needs, and it will ask for it again the following day. The first twelve weeks I was pregnant, I needed rest, plain and simple. Now my body is telling me to move, and I am slowly, tentatively venturing back to the gym and back to the sidewalks with Elvin leading the charge.

I won't call pregnancy beautiful. It still seems kind of bizarre and freaky to me, but I will call it miraculous. It is miraculous that the body knows how to create another human being when called upon (no matter how freaked out the mother). And it is miraculous for me, a lifelong body image cripple, to be free, finally, from trying to fit the mold... instead finding beauty in the urgency of hunger and the clarity of purpose, in the body doing its job: eating and breathing and moving.

I look forward to taking this knowledge with me back to the world of the non-pregnant because the human body is no less miraculous when it is not making a baby. It just took this massive, life-altering event for me to finally not give a shit what the haters in my own mind have to say and put the focus squarely and intently on the wondrous inner workings of my physical body, loving it exactly as it is and allowing it to do its thing.

Enough Already With The Apologies

I would like to know why my clients feel the need to apologize for, say, not being able to keep their balance on a lunge or completing eight reps instead of the ten I requested.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry." Why?! Why are you sorry? And what does apologizing accomplish? I realize that you are trying to communicate to me that you recognize that you are not a superstar weight lifter. We both know that already. You are in the shape you are in. There is no reason to pretend that anything should be any different than it already is. You started working out! You took the magnificently difficult step to show up for your session. You should be raving mad, shouting from the rooftops how proud of yourself you are for busting out of the status quo and pushing yourself beyond.

Falling over and maxing out are signs that you are pushing yourself to your limits. This is a GOOD thing. I have purposely assigned a series of movements or a weight that will be difficult for you to achieve. That is the whole point! It is my job to push you, and it is your job to try and possibly fail. If you are not having a hard time coordinating your next move, I am not doing my job and you should fire me.

So please stop apologizing to me and definitely stop apologizing to yourself. Fall over loud and proud. Do it with dazzling style. The floor will be there to catch you.

Moving

Last weekend Ken and I moved from a 3600 square foot house into a 600 square foot duplex apartment where we are serenaded everyday by heavy footsteps, loud telephone conversations, and a yap-yap dog echoing through the walls next door. We sold our house in order to build our dream home but discovered yesterday that the plan had been axed due to powers beyond our control (historical commissions, boards, and bullshit like that). So here we sit, uprooted and unsure of our next steps.

Over the course of the weeks leading up to the move and the move itself: I stopped sleeping, I got the flu, my lips were perpetually chapped and bleeding no matter how much water I drank, my back ached, my neck seized, and the creeping impulse to eat for comfort ebbed and flowed. Moving is uncomfortable... moving from one home to another, one job to another, moving on after a death or disappointment, moving at the gym, or moving to consider an unwelcome thought. Uncomfortable. Tiring and sometimes painful, but also absolutely challenging and invigorating.

Moving keeps us healthy. Obviously, moving in the form of exercise is good. Less obvious... moving on, moving away, moving towards, reaching out, expanding, stretching, trying something new. All good things, keeping us agile and alive.

Now that the initial move is over and the initial dream is squashed, I have the opportunity to create a life and find a home I haven't even imagined yet. I may be sitting in a duplex in East Nashville at 1 a.m., totally unsure of how the hell I got here or what the hell to do next. But I remain, always and forever, a fan of moving.

Is it spring yet?

Sooo... here goes. My very first blog post is going to be about, what else? My butt. I stood up from the couch today, and my butt cheeks were asleep, literally asleep... all tingly and dead. I have no choice but to take this as a sign that winter is winning and my butt is losing. Granted it is all snowy and icy outside, but that's no excuse for allowing my ass to simultaneously expand and congeal.

With all the good intentions I could muster, I dragged my tingly butt up off of the couch and grabbed Elvin's leash. For those of you who don't know, Elvin is my sweet, loving, prince of a dog who never does anything wrong. We ventured out in the snow: Elvin with the fire of a pit bull cooped up for too long, snow storm after snow storm; and me with the withering glow of an extinguished match being tossed carelessly in the toilet to cover the stink of particularly large poop. Off we went into the snow and off Elvin went like it was his last crack at seeing the world. With a solid sheet of ice under my feet, down I went with a crash. Fortunately I had plenty of tingly, gelatinous padding to catch my fall.

Is it spring yet?