Something New

Last night I was on the 24 Hour Fitness web site and looked at the class schedule. I keep meaning to go to classes but haven't been able to get a time that there's a class I want and I have someone to watch Ijja.

I figured a 7:45 am Saturday yoga class might actually work.

Getting up for it was another story.

I scooted in to the class and the room was already quite full. I picked up one of the "public" mats at the door--which are not so great for a variety of reasons. I placed myself near the back in a semi-open space (i.e., less crowded than the rest of the room) and was already self-conscious since the instructor was already talking as I was getting myself settled.

The class was really nice though. My mat proved to be challenging because it stretched--so as I was doing one of the lunging poses, my lunge kept going deeper. Perhaps that's why nearly everyone else had their own mat.

I've only taken one yoga class before--and it was probably at least 10 years ago, so this was really a new experience. About halfway through I remembered what I thought of the last class: it's amazing how staying nearly still can be so much work.

Most of the time I was just focused on trying to do what I was supposed to be doing and breathe. A few times I did glance around to see what others were doing and was surprised by a few things.

Holy cow, my hamstrings and calves have lost SO much flexibility since I got hurt. There was a time when in ANY given situation, I would be one of the most, if not the most, flexible person at an activity. That has exactly flipflopped for those muscles. There were a couple of stretches that it looked like I wasn't even trying to participate, yet my muscles were on the edge of revolt it stretched so much.

Alternately, my balance still seems to be decent. I don't practice balancing much any more, so was surprised that I still seem to be able to control my body to keep it from flipping over. There were a few poses that I was one of the few actually able to do them, let alone hold them. It made me feel a little better for being lousy at the flexibility earlier on.

Again, surprised by how much work it was to stay still. Sheesh!

After I was done with yoga, I decided I hadn't done enough to myself yet, so I went for a swim. Between being sick and having a hard time getting to do workouts lately, it was a bit more challenging than it had been.

Oh, and I learned that the pool I've been practicing my "half miles" in is actually only 25 yards, not 25 meters. Okay, so there's only 3 inches difference between a yard and a meter, but on one length of the pool alone, that's nearly 2 meters difference. On a half mile, it means a 3 pool length difference.

So all those "half mile" practice runs I swam to get ready for the triathlon?

Weren't.

While it may surprise those who have seen my house, I have a few OCD tendencies. With swimming, it is even numbers. So instead of swimming 35 lengths of the pool to get in my half mile, I did 36. Not only that, but I divided up my breaks mathematically as well: 4-8-12-8-4, stopping for about 30 seconds after each group of lengths.

That's not even going into the math I do in my head while swimming the lengths so I don't go crazy following the black line on the bottom of the pool.

Let me step back on this side of crazy now.

I came home from swimming and...felt the beginnings of a migraine. Rather than wait for it to blow up, I took some of my back pain medication. I did spend a few minutes debating this as I'm pretty sure my back meds are causing my migraines. However, since I'd already taken them before yoga (about 5 hours prior), I couldn't take my migraine medication (have to wait 12 hours after back meds before migraine meds), I had a Christmas party to go to in the evening, and the back meds do take care of the existing migraine (before causing the next one), I took them anyway and went to go to sleep.

Four hours later I woke up feeling no worse, but not much better. I got ready for the party, got my daughter ready for the party, and when my husband got home, we left, on Moroccan time, about 30 minutes late.

As we pulled into the street that the home was on we were about to visit, my husband informed me he wasn't feeling well--and he thought I had what I had a few days ago.

I turned around and drove him home rather than expose him to everyone at the party.

Then my daughter and I went back and enjoyed ourselves socializing for a couple of hours. The senior preschool teacher (meaning she teaches the 4-year-olds!) was there and was very complimentary, telling me how cute my daughter was and she was amazed that at 8:30 pm, my 3-year-old was the only child there not in the middle of a meltdown.

And she had been a little angel the whole evening.

Until we walked out the door.

On the way home, I drove her down one of the streets with lots of Christmas lights. I thought she would be thrilled, but apparently I had left the party at the exact moment her nice temperament had worn out and instead she really didn't seem to care.

At least my headache seemed to have disappeared by that time, and by time i got home the whole family was ready for bed.

Except the dog, who needed out 37 times.

From Bad to Worse

Apparently NyQuil does a really good job of masking symptoms because despite starting to feel a little better yesterday and being hopeful for today, ah...not so much.

Before I go any further, there is a too much information alert in progress. You've been warned.

I was NOT feeling well in the afternoon, decided that because of it, I wouldn't be taking my daughter to gymnastics, and then texted my husband to ask him to bring home some ginger ale.

I only ever ask him to bring home ginger ale when I'm sick or someone else is.

An hour later I texted him and told him he was too late.

An hour after that, he showed up with ginger ale. I sipped on it anyway, which turned out to be a bad plan.

Despite having conversations with him about this, he still asks what I consider the stupidest question in the world when I'm busy with reverse digestion. So while I was occupied making noises so horrific that had I not been the one making them, I would have joined in, he yells across the house.

"Are you okay?"

1) I was physically incapable of answering that question in that moment and
2) Obviously not.

I never answered as I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. Also, I was afraid to open my mouth.

Lurching Along

Our household has not been so healthy this past week or so. I spent much of last week trying to figure out why I had a constant migraine and why I couldn't get rid of it.

Then I realized I'd been eating chocolate in the form of hot cocoa. On the one hand, it's really nice when my body tells me something isn't good for it. It becomes simple to exclude that from my diet.

On the other hand, a little bit of the fun of winter dies when I can't enjoy hot cocoa.

Friday I left for the weekend to do some gymnastics judging. It was a long weekend of work (although LOADS of fun), and I was very grateful to get home in one piece--we passed a flipped over SUV on our drive home through some very icy roads.

I got home and my daughter was sick. She'd had a blast playing with Baba all weekend. She was actually sick enough that when I told her to cuddle up on the couch with a blanket, she obeyed.

Now I'm sick. Ugh. I sat on the bicycle trainer today for only about a half hour, with the fan pointed at me. I've GOT to get a softer seat. Or a harder rear end.

My Physical Condition Is Now Better Than the Dog's

I woke up at about 10:00am, a good 18 hours after I laid down to attempt to get rid of my migraine, and it was finally gone.

My friend called and wanted to go hiking, so I packed up daughter and dog and we went to our usual park. We did not take a usual trail and discovered that although our new route was absolutely beautiful, we will not take it again until spring or summer, when it has dried out, because it was a muddy slippery mess and we're both grateful that we didn't end up sitting in it at any point.

I hydrated better than yesterday and although I don't feel great, I'm certainly not in the state I was yesterday when I got home.

The dog, however, is so worn out she can't even bend over to get to her food or water bowl. I even put rice in her bowl and she looked at it, tried to bend down, gave up, turned to look at me pathetically, then walked away.

I ended up putting the bowl on my daughter's mini chair so the dog could eat.

Poor thing.

That would have been me, though, when I started this, had I just had the past two days of activity that we've had. So now that I'm in better shape than the dog, I'd better start dragging her out more too.

Punished for Good Behavior

If you've ever watched an extreme skiing/snowboarding film, you know that they go on and on about fresh, untouched "powder" as if it's the greatest thing on earth.

Obviously, they've never been in such conditions while in snowshoes, dragging a sled with a toddler, and coaxing a dog to follow.

We went up to the mountain today for some early-season snow time. My husband is eager to get in some back-country snowboarding and I'm considering entering a snowshoeing race at the same location in a couple of months. (The event announcement, put out by a group that normally does running events, guarantees that there will be no cars on the course.)

Intending to leave at 9:00am, we packed and loaded the car and set off at about 9:45. Not bad for a family on Moroccan time. I was actually feeling rather proud of myself because last year I'd left all my snow gear in one bag so that I could just grab it and run and not have to look all over for things.

I grabbed everything except for one seemingly minor but actually very critical thing.

Toilet paper.

The permanent outhouses at the snow park we go to are always out, which I forgot until we arrived and needed it. Fortunately, several months ago I had my husband pack extra baby wipes in his car "just in case" he would need them for something, so we weren't totally without creature comforts.

The important business taken care of, we geared up. Last year, I bought some snow pants that barely fit. It was depressing, because they were enormous pants (I still refer to them as my size "Extra Elephant" pants), I had to unzip the side pockets to provide room for my hips, and if I so much as exhaled (no exaggeration), the waist snaps popped open. All this and they are also about a foot too long for my legs. (I could go into a LONG tangent here about how hard it is to find activity-appropriate gear for large people and how the heck are they going to exercise to make change if there is no clothing to do so in comfortably.)

I was extremely pleased to discover that my size extra elephant pants could 1) have the pockets zipped this time, 2) snap and stay snapped, even when bending over or sneezing (I tested both), and 3) even have enough room for 2 layers underneath.

Another challenge last year was getting the snowshoes on and off. The first time I had my husband help because I'd never done it before and didn't know how they buckled. Every time after that, I had to have him help because I couldn't breathe when I bent over in my too-tight snowpants, because I actually needed snowpants in size two extra elephants.

I got my snowshoes on ALL BY MYSELF (I totally sound like my 3-year-old in my head when I say that) AND I was able to breathe while doing it.

Also my pants were still snapped when I stood up.

If that's not progress to celebrate, I don't know what is.

Off we set on the trail. It was a bit challenging since normally it is somewhat groomed, but I don't think they've had a chance to do any grooming yet this year. Even in snowshoes (and I wasn't wearing tiny ones), I was sinking as much as two feet at times. I took a few pictures, we saw a dad and his son that we saw a few times last year, and then my husband wanted to head off around the edge of a bowl on the side of the trail, so he took off with our daughter in the sled and the dog following him.

Already having enough trouble on the "trail" I decided I'd continue up and meet them at the top so I would at least have a little bit of packed trail to go on from the few that had been up earlier in the morning.

I looked over and eventually saw that the dog was really struggling. I called her and as she stopped it looked like she debated whether to run through the loose snow toward me or continue to try to follow my husband's trail. She opted for his trail.

She was completely stuck a few minutes later.

My husband, hands full with our daughter, kept on going, so I decided to play Canine Rescue Crew, which meant working through all the loose powder I'd been trying to avoid in the first place--and going uphill doing so. There were a few points where the angle was such that I was in snow up to my waist and had to back up and kick the snow ahead so I could step forward.

As I got close to our dog, I could hear that she was crying. Worried that she was injured (and how on earth would I carry an 85 pound dog back down out of this if she couldn't walk?) I hurried as best I could.

Thing is, even though I'm in way better shape than last year, with the conditions and my endurance still not fantastic, "hurried" meant move five steps, pant. Five steps, pant. And the dog whimpered some more. "I'm coming, girl!" Five steps, pant.

When I got there, it was clear she wasn't injured but had fallen into a hole where a small tree was bent over and she couldn't get her legs over the tree to get out. So I laid face down in the snow, reached into the hole and pulled up her back legs.

I got lots of slobbery kisses as a thank you.

I then trudged back over my own trail and she followed RIGHT behind me and then ran ahead as I rejoined the slightly-packed trail up the hill.

My husband and daughter took a slow sled run down the bowl (which was too loose of powder for even the sled to work in), I followed after them, attempting to pack a small trail with my snowshoes (then hiked around to get back up). I did another packing hike down the hill before they went down again and they were only slightly more successful at swooshing down the hill. At the end, I think more effort was put into scooting with feet than it would have been to just walk.

At the bottom of the bowl, my daughter announced, "I have to go PEE PEE!"

We were a good half hour from the parking lot, so I offered her the option of doing her pee pee like the doggie. She didn't like that idea, so my husband hooked the sled rope to my back belt loop (which resulted in my pants scooting down).

Amazingly, we made it--dry--all the way to the restroom. I was actually more pleased with this than I was when I realized the hill I'd hiked up TWICE I did without stopping, which I couldn't do last year.

Again, no Olympic feats from this individual, but when my scales are stagnant, I have to take my progress where I can find it so I'm still encouraged.

When we got back to the car, the dog was so exhausted I had to lift her in. My daughter wanted a bag of chips (which I promised her after she finished her sandwich). Five minutes down the road, she fell asleep, sandwich in hand.

Two hours later, as we bumped into our driveway, she burst awake and said, "I WANT MY CHIPS!"

I handed them over, went inside and laid down as another migraine had kicked in on the drive. It woke up six hours later but was still miserable.

I didn't think I'd pushed myself that hard--I got winded a few times, but really I could have done more. It's hard not to get frustrated that while I'm doing something that should be long-term good for me, I feel like I get penalized by my own body with these migraines.

So a good day in the snow, and probably time to get back to the naturopath again.

Not a Shopping Day for Us

Another early morning for me as I spent the night at my dad's place after Thanksgiving so I could drive my sister up to the airport. We left my dad's place at 3:45 in the morning, which means I was up even more obscenely early than yesterday.

I came home and slept for another four hours and got up at a nice lazy 10:00am.

My daughter and I got dressed and headed to my husband's food cart, where he was working. It's the first time I've had a chance to go, even though they've been open for a month now. Since I've seen the menu, I know what I would order, but decided instead to have him make something for me of his choice.

I got a beef merguez sandwich. It was really good--although definitely not what I would have ordered on my own. The wind was biting cold, so we left a little while later.

Except for getting some bow supplies, I did no shopping at all.

Which was okay for the wallet, but shopping would at least have been more physical activity than I got.

In different news, the neighbor handed down a bicycle attachment that is for a little one to ride on. It has handlebars and pedals (in addition to a seat), and clamps on to the seat post of an adult bike.

So now I've got an indoor trainer and an outdoor attachment, so there's no excuse not to be biking...

...unless, of course, I go back to the list of excuses I used to make for myself. I guess I'd better get to doing something.

Yay Me. I Can Keep Up With a Toddler. Woo.

This morning I got up obscenely early (for me, anyway), hauled my daughter out of bed and drove about 80 miles to get to a "Turkey Trot." It was a 5K run for teens and adults and a 1K "Gobbler Dash" for 12 and unders.

I dressed for the weather, which was cold. I had on some good socks (picked up as a giveaway last year, but they are fantastic) and some ancient hiking boots. The boots belonged to my aunt about 20 years ago and when she was done with them, gave them to me--and I've had them for probably about 15 years. I put them on because I didn't know what the weather would be like and knew I would be warm, even though I swear each boot weighs about 5 pounds. Anyway, had on warm pants and a couple of shirts, and layered my daughter similarly.

My sister was running the 5K--despite her urgings for me to run it and my goals, I declined as I know I'm not ready to run the full distance. I did, however, let her enter my daughter in the 1K so that the cousins could do it together.

My sister did quite well (probably only the 7th woman to cross the finish line), but they haven't posted results yet, so I'm not yet sure how well. Then it was time for the little ones. When the gun went off, my nephew took off like a shot--so fast that my sister couldn't keep up with the jogger stroller and she yelled at me to keep my nephew on the course if we caught up to him.

We never did.

I was very proud of my daughter, who ran the whole way. A 1K is just over a half mile (.6 miles), which I knew she could do, but wasn't sure she could do running.

She can.

Know what? So can I. I realized, as I was jogging the race with her, that it is the farthest distance I've run in possibly a decade, and while keeping up with a 3-year-old is nothing to brag about normally, for me, it was actually yet another step in the right direction.

Know what else?

I think I could have gone 1) faster and 2) longer.

Even with my ancient heavy-duty hand-me-down hiking boots.

I'm really trying not to dwell on the fact that keeping up with a toddler is not a huge athletic feat, but rather that it is a definite change in my abilities since I started this blog.

Because if I couldn't look at it positively, I'd get pretty depressed instead.

Woo. Yay me.