So I've picked up some hours working for a local fitness startup here in Los Gatos. Fuze: Fit for a Kid is an awesome new concept in youth fitness that blends traditional group strength and plyometric exercise with cutting edge technology--that is, you can lift weights, play Dance Dance Revolution and take on your friends at a gigantic game of electronic dodgeball all in the same workout!
Aside from honing my dance moves and jamming to Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers, I've had the pleasure of teaching a brand new flavor of fitness class: Urban Rebounding. Now, for those of you who haven't heard of Urban Rebounding, here's a preview:
I'm telling you, it was a only half-hour class but I was DONE by the end (and that includes 2 water breaks!). The best part? The two 7 year old's in my class giggled through the entire thing. Now THAT is a feel good workout.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The scale doesn't lie...or does it?
To my delight, a number of my friends and clients have started emailing me with interesting articles pertaining to "alternative" health and fitness ideas. This one was sent to me a couple of weeks back and is definitely worth taking a look at.
It makes me happy to think that we, as a society, are finally becoming acclimated with the idea that weight and even BMI may not be the most accurate (or encouraging!) measures of our health. I've been something of an evangelist for these ideas for quite some time--it's a lot harder to deny when you've seen both ends of the spectrum, from a "healthy weight" man with high blood pressure, chronic fatigue and constant back pain to a "clinically obese" woman who can jump rope faster than most of the athletes I've trained.
Especially appreciated is the idea that fitness level be used as a more accurate assessment of overall health. One of the most difficult hurdles I face as a personal trainer is the new client who comes to me motivated, committed and hardworking with the declaration, "I'm ready to lose weight!" It's always a struggle to explain that the vast majority of weight loss (especially initial weight loss) is commonly connected to changes in diet and nutritional lifestyle.
Obviously, I don't see this as anything even resembling an excuse not to exercise--if I did, I'd be completely out of the job. What I suggest instead is that we learn to see fitness--our goals, our challenges, our achievements--as separate from our weight loss/weight management endeavors. Our fitness related accomplishments aren't any less important than weight loss. In fact, research is now finding that they may be MORE important! Best of all, fitness related results happen faster and (let's face it) are a lot more fun to work towards than weight loss.
Update your mentality this week: choose a fitness related goal and use it to measure your health. If weight loss is your aim, continue to monitor and strive, but be aware of the advancements you make in the fitness realm and congratulate yourself--they're not to be taken lightly. (ha.)
It makes me happy to think that we, as a society, are finally becoming acclimated with the idea that weight and even BMI may not be the most accurate (or encouraging!) measures of our health. I've been something of an evangelist for these ideas for quite some time--it's a lot harder to deny when you've seen both ends of the spectrum, from a "healthy weight" man with high blood pressure, chronic fatigue and constant back pain to a "clinically obese" woman who can jump rope faster than most of the athletes I've trained.
Especially appreciated is the idea that fitness level be used as a more accurate assessment of overall health. One of the most difficult hurdles I face as a personal trainer is the new client who comes to me motivated, committed and hardworking with the declaration, "I'm ready to lose weight!" It's always a struggle to explain that the vast majority of weight loss (especially initial weight loss) is commonly connected to changes in diet and nutritional lifestyle.
Obviously, I don't see this as anything even resembling an excuse not to exercise--if I did, I'd be completely out of the job. What I suggest instead is that we learn to see fitness--our goals, our challenges, our achievements--as separate from our weight loss/weight management endeavors. Our fitness related accomplishments aren't any less important than weight loss. In fact, research is now finding that they may be MORE important! Best of all, fitness related results happen faster and (let's face it) are a lot more fun to work towards than weight loss.
Update your mentality this week: choose a fitness related goal and use it to measure your health. If weight loss is your aim, continue to monitor and strive, but be aware of the advancements you make in the fitness realm and congratulate yourself--they're not to be taken lightly. (ha.)
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A wise piece of chocolate once told me...
Any self-respecting follower of the Feel Good Lifestyle knows well the burden of a sudden and intense need for chocolate. In adherence to my “listen to your body” challenge of last week, I clearly had no choice but to venture to Walgreen’s on Saturday night to find a suitable answer to my body’s demands.
To pretend chocolate isn’t holy is blasphemous, but pretending moderation is unnecessary is just as big of a lie, so I confess it was a small box of a new line of bite-sized Dove “Beautiful” Chocolates that made their way home with me that night. I didn’t realize until I got home that in an attempt at targeted marketing, the chocolates actually boasted ingredients beneficial for healthy skin. How lame—as if I needed an excuse for chocolate. Chocolate needs no justification.
When I unwrapped my first little treat, I was delighted to find that the aluminum wrappers had little messages on the inside—how exciting! What a disappointment when the messages turned out to be cheesier than Seventh Heaven in syndication. My first wrapper proclaimed “You are beautiful!” Psssh—I already knew that. Dove needs to hire some new writers or get a new gimmick.
Now I know a disciplined, hard-bodied trainer would confidently state her complete satisfaction at a single ounce of dark chocolate and announce her cheerful anticipation of next month’s 100-calorie indulgence. But, let’s face it, I’m not that disciplined and I’m definitely not a hard body…so I went in for seconds. Good thing, too, because chocolate number two’s message completely redeemed the first:
“Happiness is a state of health.”
For serious? Dove, have you been reading my blog? How fitting that the essence of my program would be encompassed in a quotation found in a chocolate wrapper. That’s right, folks, the ideas that I’ve been trying to put into words for over a year are printed on tin foil and can be found at your local drugstore.
So take a hint from Dove (and me!). Stop for a moment and think about the people you admire for their healthy lifestyles. Most of them have found ways to be active and healthy in ways that truly make them happy. They enjoy the food they eat and look forward to their chosen modes of exercise. On the flip side, think about the people you know who are overweight and unhealthy—they are typically unhappy or discontent with some aspect of their lives. It’s no secret: happiness breeds health.
My challenge for the week is this: instead of planning to be happy once you are healthy/skinny/fit/etc., resolve to become happy as a means to that same goal. Identify those issues which are keeping you from a state of happiness and make a commitment to confront those issues first. “Happiness is a state of health,” and health is a state of feeling good.
To pretend chocolate isn’t holy is blasphemous, but pretending moderation is unnecessary is just as big of a lie, so I confess it was a small box of a new line of bite-sized Dove “Beautiful” Chocolates that made their way home with me that night. I didn’t realize until I got home that in an attempt at targeted marketing, the chocolates actually boasted ingredients beneficial for healthy skin. How lame—as if I needed an excuse for chocolate. Chocolate needs no justification.
When I unwrapped my first little treat, I was delighted to find that the aluminum wrappers had little messages on the inside—how exciting! What a disappointment when the messages turned out to be cheesier than Seventh Heaven in syndication. My first wrapper proclaimed “You are beautiful!” Psssh—I already knew that. Dove needs to hire some new writers or get a new gimmick.
Now I know a disciplined, hard-bodied trainer would confidently state her complete satisfaction at a single ounce of dark chocolate and announce her cheerful anticipation of next month’s 100-calorie indulgence. But, let’s face it, I’m not that disciplined and I’m definitely not a hard body…so I went in for seconds. Good thing, too, because chocolate number two’s message completely redeemed the first:
“Happiness is a state of health.”
For serious? Dove, have you been reading my blog? How fitting that the essence of my program would be encompassed in a quotation found in a chocolate wrapper. That’s right, folks, the ideas that I’ve been trying to put into words for over a year are printed on tin foil and can be found at your local drugstore.
So take a hint from Dove (and me!). Stop for a moment and think about the people you admire for their healthy lifestyles. Most of them have found ways to be active and healthy in ways that truly make them happy. They enjoy the food they eat and look forward to their chosen modes of exercise. On the flip side, think about the people you know who are overweight and unhealthy—they are typically unhappy or discontent with some aspect of their lives. It’s no secret: happiness breeds health.
My challenge for the week is this: instead of planning to be happy once you are healthy/skinny/fit/etc., resolve to become happy as a means to that same goal. Identify those issues which are keeping you from a state of happiness and make a commitment to confront those issues first. “Happiness is a state of health,” and health is a state of feeling good.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Open your ears
Before I even get started, I want to extend a GIGANTIC congratulations to my client, Brittony Keller who took home the gold medal in figures at the National Roller Skating Championships last week! Woohoo! That girl must have an amazing trainer…
That said, it might make sense when I tell you about the agony that ensued when I attempted to do the workout I put her through Tuesday night as my own workout this morning. One of the bold aspects of my “schtick” is that I never put clients through exercises that I don’t actually do myself. Consider it the ultimate in empathy training—today, this cute little quirk of mine almost killed me.
It was never an innocent exercise, but it certainly didn’t seem out of control: at the peak of the workout I’d had Brittony do a push up with her hands gripping the sides of an upside-down Bosu, followed by 10 mountain climbers. Repeat 5 times? No problem. Brit handled it like a champ, and although she was tired at the end, she claimed to feel okay.
Brit works so hard and it’s really inspiring, so I was really excited to try her workout for myself when I got to the gym this morning. I made it through the lunges, the dips, the squats and the curls…then came the Bosu push up/mountain climber combo. I pushed through the first set of five and was amazed at how tired my legs felt as I struggled to reach full stride with my mountain climbers (I shouldn’t have been—I haven’t challenged my legs in weeks!), but the real kicker was when I tried to start the second set with a strong pushup. I just. Couldn’t. Do it. Or at least I couldn’t do it right. I felt my back tilt with the effort and automatically knew I needed to stop.
I have to admit, I was a little disappointed with myself for not being able to finish the set, but I this afternoon, I got the affirmation that listening to my body was the right thing to do. As I got out of the car and picked up my tote bag I noticed an extreme fatigue in my anterior deltoids (i.e. the front of my shoulders). It was a struggle just to lift my arm, let alone pick up the gigantic canvas tote Brian refers to as my “luggage.” I know my shoulders are going to be unbelievably sore tomorrow if they are this tired today, and had I pushed through the second set of push ups out of pride, I probably would have hurt myself and would not have been able to push up at all for a while.
So what’s the message here? Listen, and I don’t mean to the radio or the television or that new tough love book you bought in the self-help section at Border’s. Listen to your body—it’s an amazing tool. We gaze in wonder at documentaries about animals and their amazing instincts, but we short change ourselves for the ones we , too, posess.
I really believe that in most ways, our body knows exactly how to take care of itself, but we are so conditioned to ignore its messages that we often don’t hear what it says. Whether we’re eating when we’re full, deciding not to take a lunch break because there’s just too much to be done, drinking that 4th shot of tequila or try to do another set of push ups regardless of our form, it’s a dangerously human habit to ignore your body’s limitations.
Part of the permissiveness of my approach in Feel Good Training comes from the idea that you instinctively know how to take care of yourself and definitely know what feels good—you just have to practice trusting your own intuitions. Challenge your listening skills for the next week. Let your body tell you:
Listening to your body feels good. It is a method of self-respect and an exercise in self-trust. Try it.
That said, it might make sense when I tell you about the agony that ensued when I attempted to do the workout I put her through Tuesday night as my own workout this morning. One of the bold aspects of my “schtick” is that I never put clients through exercises that I don’t actually do myself. Consider it the ultimate in empathy training—today, this cute little quirk of mine almost killed me.
It was never an innocent exercise, but it certainly didn’t seem out of control: at the peak of the workout I’d had Brittony do a push up with her hands gripping the sides of an upside-down Bosu, followed by 10 mountain climbers. Repeat 5 times? No problem. Brit handled it like a champ, and although she was tired at the end, she claimed to feel okay.
Brit works so hard and it’s really inspiring, so I was really excited to try her workout for myself when I got to the gym this morning. I made it through the lunges, the dips, the squats and the curls…then came the Bosu push up/mountain climber combo. I pushed through the first set of five and was amazed at how tired my legs felt as I struggled to reach full stride with my mountain climbers (I shouldn’t have been—I haven’t challenged my legs in weeks!), but the real kicker was when I tried to start the second set with a strong pushup. I just. Couldn’t. Do it. Or at least I couldn’t do it right. I felt my back tilt with the effort and automatically knew I needed to stop.
I have to admit, I was a little disappointed with myself for not being able to finish the set, but I this afternoon, I got the affirmation that listening to my body was the right thing to do. As I got out of the car and picked up my tote bag I noticed an extreme fatigue in my anterior deltoids (i.e. the front of my shoulders). It was a struggle just to lift my arm, let alone pick up the gigantic canvas tote Brian refers to as my “luggage.” I know my shoulders are going to be unbelievably sore tomorrow if they are this tired today, and had I pushed through the second set of push ups out of pride, I probably would have hurt myself and would not have been able to push up at all for a while.
So what’s the message here? Listen, and I don’t mean to the radio or the television or that new tough love book you bought in the self-help section at Border’s. Listen to your body—it’s an amazing tool. We gaze in wonder at documentaries about animals and their amazing instincts, but we short change ourselves for the ones we , too, posess.
I really believe that in most ways, our body knows exactly how to take care of itself, but we are so conditioned to ignore its messages that we often don’t hear what it says. Whether we’re eating when we’re full, deciding not to take a lunch break because there’s just too much to be done, drinking that 4th shot of tequila or try to do another set of push ups regardless of our form, it’s a dangerously human habit to ignore your body’s limitations.
Part of the permissiveness of my approach in Feel Good Training comes from the idea that you instinctively know how to take care of yourself and definitely know what feels good—you just have to practice trusting your own intuitions. Challenge your listening skills for the next week. Let your body tell you:
- When you are hungry
- When you are full
- When you are dehydrated
- When you are restless and need to move
- When you are tired and need to be still
- When you are comfortable and content
Listening to your body feels good. It is a method of self-respect and an exercise in self-trust. Try it.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Rah-rah-sis-boom-bah
I did a light workout today--a little cardio, the single-joint-isolation leg strengthening exercises my old coworker showed me that keep my knees from falling off in long runs, some ab work, some pullups...
Interesting, though, to realize my role in the gym has seriously shifted since the last time I paid attention to it. Maybe it's just a product of the gyms I've belonged to, but I've always felt young in comparison to those around me. (Hell, I'm 23--I feel young most places!) At the gym, where people go to keep themselves looking and feeling, well, as if they were my age, I've always felt kind of on top of the game.
Today, however, as I finished up my leg extensions and wiped the little patterns of Rachel-sweat off the seat, I noticed a group of three high school aged girls wearing cheerleading t-shirts gathered around the assisted pull up machine. They were giggling and gossiping and spending a lot more time working their mouths than their lats and I actually started to slip into a mental rant about the "damn-kids-hogging-the-machine-who-aren't-even-working-I-don't-pay-for-this-when-does-school-start-someone-get -me-the-manager-etc-etc-etc" when I caught myself. I was thinking like an old person. I was being age discriminatory and that is lame. Weren't these girls participating in the exact kind of "feel good" exercise I claim to feel so passionately about? Weren't they choosing to spend a morning of their coveted summer vacation exercising in the company of friends instead of watching The View at home alone or smoking cigarettes with the boys their mom's warn them about?
I sucked it up and waited for them to leave and did my pull ups, but there they were again, messing around with boxing gloves and targets, when I went to do my abs! After a couple rounds of oblique crunches on the Bosu (one of my all time favorites for me and my clients) I decided to treat myself to a little bit of playtime with some balancing exercises. 10 attempts and about 9 wipe-outs later, I noticed 2 of the girls had pulled out Bosu's themselves and were attempting the exercise they had just seen me do.
I'm not gonna lie, this kind of thing really feeds my ego. Especially since completing school and becoming a personal trainer, I feel like the cool kid when I go to the gym: not only am I working out, I know all the gimmicks and how to use the best toys, too. Since I had to walk by them anyhow to get a mat to stretch on, I asked the girls (who were a little embarrassed I had noticed their following) if they were on a cheerleading team together (yes) and which school they were from (Westmont High) and told them I thought it was pretty cool that they were working out together. I also pointed to the Bosu and said, "You know, you can stand on the flat side of that--it's a little bit harder but really good for practicing balance and working your abs."
Guess what the entire squad was doing when I left the gym.
(Good deed for the day? Check.)
Interesting, though, to realize my role in the gym has seriously shifted since the last time I paid attention to it. Maybe it's just a product of the gyms I've belonged to, but I've always felt young in comparison to those around me. (Hell, I'm 23--I feel young most places!) At the gym, where people go to keep themselves looking and feeling, well, as if they were my age, I've always felt kind of on top of the game.
Today, however, as I finished up my leg extensions and wiped the little patterns of Rachel-sweat off the seat, I noticed a group of three high school aged girls wearing cheerleading t-shirts gathered around the assisted pull up machine. They were giggling and gossiping and spending a lot more time working their mouths than their lats and I actually started to slip into a mental rant about the "damn-kids-hogging-the-machine-who-aren't-even-working-I-don't-pay-for-this-when-does-school-start-someone-get -me-the-manager-etc-etc-etc" when I caught myself. I was thinking like an old person. I was being age discriminatory and that is lame. Weren't these girls participating in the exact kind of "feel good" exercise I claim to feel so passionately about? Weren't they choosing to spend a morning of their coveted summer vacation exercising in the company of friends instead of watching The View at home alone or smoking cigarettes with the boys their mom's warn them about?
I sucked it up and waited for them to leave and did my pull ups, but there they were again, messing around with boxing gloves and targets, when I went to do my abs! After a couple rounds of oblique crunches on the Bosu (one of my all time favorites for me and my clients) I decided to treat myself to a little bit of playtime with some balancing exercises. 10 attempts and about 9 wipe-outs later, I noticed 2 of the girls had pulled out Bosu's themselves and were attempting the exercise they had just seen me do.
I'm not gonna lie, this kind of thing really feeds my ego. Especially since completing school and becoming a personal trainer, I feel like the cool kid when I go to the gym: not only am I working out, I know all the gimmicks and how to use the best toys, too. Since I had to walk by them anyhow to get a mat to stretch on, I asked the girls (who were a little embarrassed I had noticed their following) if they were on a cheerleading team together (yes) and which school they were from (Westmont High) and told them I thought it was pretty cool that they were working out together. I also pointed to the Bosu and said, "You know, you can stand on the flat side of that--it's a little bit harder but really good for practicing balance and working your abs."
Guess what the entire squad was doing when I left the gym.
(Good deed for the day? Check.)
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Gimme some slack!
Goodness it’s been a while—the past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of family vacations—first the 4th of July in Tahoe with my boyfriend’s mom and brother and then the annual Press Family Yosemite trip. It’s been crazy and exhausting, but fun and I’ve found a couple of great new workouts in disguise!
Brian’s little brother, Eric, is kind of a badass when it comes to hidden workouts. He’s an eagle scout who has been pretty into backpacking for a while now and gets his jollies off of “being prepared” for whatever in the wilderness. A couple of years ago he followed Brian’s footsteps and entered the indoor climbing scene. Since then he’s developed (along with gigantic shoulders) interest in a lot of the outdoor “alternative” activities that tend to be popular in the climbing community. I got to reap the benefits of his explorations over the holiday weekend in the form of a free slacklining lesson.
Slacklining, for those of you who don’t frequent climbing gyms, hippie music festivals or alternative fitness demonstrations, is kind of like tightrope walking with hairy armpits. Typically the slack line is strung between two trees, giving the activity kind of an earthy feel—especially when those trees are in a lightly forested area of Lake Tahoe. Here's Eric giving a demonstration of how it should be done:
As a rookie, you’ll see that my slacklining attempts are short lived and heavily assisted, so it’s a good thing I didn’t try to be like this guy and set my rope up a billion feet off the ground.
Teetering on the edge of disaster
Slacklining is SUPERFUN!
I know it looks like I’m not doing much in my pictures, but believe it or not, the next day my legs were ridiculously shaky. My quads were sore in what felt like a really similar region to where I usually ache after a day of skiing. I didn’t commit to a very long slacklining session, but Eric swears when you do the pain in your legs is most definitely rivaled by a burning core which is easy to believe since your body is in a constant state of micro-adjustment while on the slackline. I was impressed that only about 30 minutes of this slacklining business was able to give me such a decent workout, especially since I was laughing half the time!
The downside to the slacklining workout? Well, it was pretty hard on my knees. As any of my clients will tell you, I’m not a fan of putting knees in an acute angle and the whole “mounting” process necessary to get on the slackline without someone holding your hands makes that a requirement. Because you’re only lifting your own body weight, it’s not too heinous of a request, but it does create a bit of wear and tear and my knees definitely felt the strain after I’d done my long run the next day. Take home message? Give your knees some time to recover when you’re new at slacklining before you dive into other activities that are demanding to that joint.
The second drawback is actually correctable with some foresight. Because we all have a “happy” side, or a arm/leg that has better balance and coordination, it is easy to favor half of your body when doing a challenging, task-based workout (in this case, the task is don’t fall on your face). This can create unbalanced results. The temptation to keep trying to mount the slackline on your “happy” side is pretty intense, especially when you feel yourself getting “so close!” to getting it right. If you’re using slacklining as a method of conditioning, count and time your attempts to make sure your right and left sides get equal time in the limelight. You may see slower progress initially, but in the long run your joints will thank you and you may even end up more skilled than your less ambidextrous slacklining friends!
Finally, be careful when you slackline. I was lucky enough to have someone who was practiced enough to know how to keep me from killing myself. Try to find a veteran who is willing to give you some hands (or foot!) on tips, and when you fall, avoid catching your feet on the slackline and rolling down a hill face first into your mountain cabin. (Yes, Brian, that was for you.)
Brian’s little brother, Eric, is kind of a badass when it comes to hidden workouts. He’s an eagle scout who has been pretty into backpacking for a while now and gets his jollies off of “being prepared” for whatever in the wilderness. A couple of years ago he followed Brian’s footsteps and entered the indoor climbing scene. Since then he’s developed (along with gigantic shoulders) interest in a lot of the outdoor “alternative” activities that tend to be popular in the climbing community. I got to reap the benefits of his explorations over the holiday weekend in the form of a free slacklining lesson.
Slacklining, for those of you who don’t frequent climbing gyms, hippie music festivals or alternative fitness demonstrations, is kind of like tightrope walking with hairy armpits. Typically the slack line is strung between two trees, giving the activity kind of an earthy feel—especially when those trees are in a lightly forested area of Lake Tahoe. Here's Eric giving a demonstration of how it should be done:
As a rookie, you’ll see that my slacklining attempts are short lived and heavily assisted, so it’s a good thing I didn’t try to be like this guy and set my rope up a billion feet off the ground.
Teetering on the edge of disaster
Slacklining is SUPERFUN!
I know it looks like I’m not doing much in my pictures, but believe it or not, the next day my legs were ridiculously shaky. My quads were sore in what felt like a really similar region to where I usually ache after a day of skiing. I didn’t commit to a very long slacklining session, but Eric swears when you do the pain in your legs is most definitely rivaled by a burning core which is easy to believe since your body is in a constant state of micro-adjustment while on the slackline. I was impressed that only about 30 minutes of this slacklining business was able to give me such a decent workout, especially since I was laughing half the time!
The downside to the slacklining workout? Well, it was pretty hard on my knees. As any of my clients will tell you, I’m not a fan of putting knees in an acute angle and the whole “mounting” process necessary to get on the slackline without someone holding your hands makes that a requirement. Because you’re only lifting your own body weight, it’s not too heinous of a request, but it does create a bit of wear and tear and my knees definitely felt the strain after I’d done my long run the next day. Take home message? Give your knees some time to recover when you’re new at slacklining before you dive into other activities that are demanding to that joint.
The second drawback is actually correctable with some foresight. Because we all have a “happy” side, or a arm/leg that has better balance and coordination, it is easy to favor half of your body when doing a challenging, task-based workout (in this case, the task is don’t fall on your face). This can create unbalanced results. The temptation to keep trying to mount the slackline on your “happy” side is pretty intense, especially when you feel yourself getting “so close!” to getting it right. If you’re using slacklining as a method of conditioning, count and time your attempts to make sure your right and left sides get equal time in the limelight. You may see slower progress initially, but in the long run your joints will thank you and you may even end up more skilled than your less ambidextrous slacklining friends!
Finally, be careful when you slackline. I was lucky enough to have someone who was practiced enough to know how to keep me from killing myself. Try to find a veteran who is willing to give you some hands (or foot!) on tips, and when you fall, avoid catching your feet on the slackline and rolling down a hill face first into your mountain cabin. (Yes, Brian, that was for you.)
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
"Just a bite!"
Last October, one of my closest friends made the decision to stop working at the front desk of a fitness center and start working at the front counter of Icing on the Cake, the world’s most wonderful bakery. Needless to say, she faces a range of challenges on a daily basis that most of us only have to deal with on grocery store trips and at birthday parties. After spending some time catching up on her couch yesterday, she confessed that she’d put on a considerable amount of weight since starting at her new job. When I had stopped by the bakery for a few, um, supplies last week, she actually referenced the store’s banana cake as her first true love.
“What about Dave (her boyfriend)?” I asked.
“Oh. No. He understands banana cake comes first.”
Even with the acknowledgement of her sweet little problem and the motivation to change, my friend has been struggling to change the habits that landed her in her stretchy pants.
“Saying no to all the sweets was easy the first three days, but days four and five were horrible, “ she complained.
It was immediately obvious to me that my friend’s approach was problematic. Any weight management strategy that proves so intense you can reference days of the attempt by number is not going to be sustainable. And so I let her in on one of my favorite tips: “just a bite.”
It’s very scientific, really, and the instructions are super complicated, so let me explain. Regardless of the food you’re craving or the reason you’re craving it, you allow yourself “just a bite.” The downside of this strategy? A lot of wasted food. I’ve been known to endorse a Miranda-esque defense against weak willpower and squirt dish soap, old beer or other unpleasantries on top of the remainder of the leftover bites of my indulgences. However, by allowing yourself to crave and then enjoy foods that make you happy, you succeed you create a healthy, moderate relationship with all foods. Taking a bite of a cupcake 3 times each workday instead of eating three full cupcakes each workday still offers you a sweet something to look forward to without doing enough damage to pop the buttons on your uniform.
As with baked goods, small victories in exercise can add up. The traditional approach to exercise can be so intimidating. The idea that we have to devote hours each day to fitness in order to stay healthy and fit is not only obnoxiously depressing, it’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The mother of one of my younger clients asked me the other day, “How many hours do you work out each day?” It has been a long time since I’ve tried so hard not to laugh.
Yes, I will occasionally dedicate a full, solid hour of hard work (i.e. lifting, sweating, jumping, catching, etc.) to my fitness goals. Yes, I have been known to plan the occasional hilly run just to challenge my legs and prep me for my next event. But the afternoon I spent playing with the Frisbee in the pool with my sister last weekend? That counts. The climbing date I’ve been trying to make with my old roommate? That will count, too. It is the choice to lead an active lifestyle that is the most effective move toward health, not the forced and miserable 3 hour workout at the gym and definitely not the week-long manic cupcake deprivation. Moderation in all things is the answer.
My nutrition professor at UC Santa Barbara had a great line: “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” So some days, we’ll eat the whole cheesecake. Some days, we’ll run marathons. And that’s okay, too.
But for most days, take “just a bite” of exercise and enjoy a bit of your favorite bakery item guilt free. Because what’s the point of life without banana cake?
“What about Dave (her boyfriend)?” I asked.
“Oh. No. He understands banana cake comes first.”
Even with the acknowledgement of her sweet little problem and the motivation to change, my friend has been struggling to change the habits that landed her in her stretchy pants.
“Saying no to all the sweets was easy the first three days, but days four and five were horrible, “ she complained.
It was immediately obvious to me that my friend’s approach was problematic. Any weight management strategy that proves so intense you can reference days of the attempt by number is not going to be sustainable. And so I let her in on one of my favorite tips: “just a bite.”
It’s very scientific, really, and the instructions are super complicated, so let me explain. Regardless of the food you’re craving or the reason you’re craving it, you allow yourself “just a bite.” The downside of this strategy? A lot of wasted food. I’ve been known to endorse a Miranda-esque defense against weak willpower and squirt dish soap, old beer or other unpleasantries on top of the remainder of the leftover bites of my indulgences. However, by allowing yourself to crave and then enjoy foods that make you happy, you succeed you create a healthy, moderate relationship with all foods. Taking a bite of a cupcake 3 times each workday instead of eating three full cupcakes each workday still offers you a sweet something to look forward to without doing enough damage to pop the buttons on your uniform.
As with baked goods, small victories in exercise can add up. The traditional approach to exercise can be so intimidating. The idea that we have to devote hours each day to fitness in order to stay healthy and fit is not only obnoxiously depressing, it’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The mother of one of my younger clients asked me the other day, “How many hours do you work out each day?” It has been a long time since I’ve tried so hard not to laugh.
Yes, I will occasionally dedicate a full, solid hour of hard work (i.e. lifting, sweating, jumping, catching, etc.) to my fitness goals. Yes, I have been known to plan the occasional hilly run just to challenge my legs and prep me for my next event. But the afternoon I spent playing with the Frisbee in the pool with my sister last weekend? That counts. The climbing date I’ve been trying to make with my old roommate? That will count, too. It is the choice to lead an active lifestyle that is the most effective move toward health, not the forced and miserable 3 hour workout at the gym and definitely not the week-long manic cupcake deprivation. Moderation in all things is the answer.
My nutrition professor at UC Santa Barbara had a great line: “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” So some days, we’ll eat the whole cheesecake. Some days, we’ll run marathons. And that’s okay, too.
But for most days, take “just a bite” of exercise and enjoy a bit of your favorite bakery item guilt free. Because what’s the point of life without banana cake?
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Cowgirl thighs and learning to let go
Question: What sixty second workout will make your thighs burn, your core ache and your fingers bruised for days afterward?
Answer: Riding a mechanical bull!! (duh)
Somehow, around 11:00pm last night, I found myself standing in line holding a five dollar bill and a contract releasing the Saddle Rack of Fremont, California from all liability concerning the ridiculous acts I was about to perform. In front of me is Nick, the boyfriend of one of my clients (who has become a dear friend), eagerly detailing the finer points of his bull-riding strategy and plans for total bovine domination. Behind me are two scantily clad girls who look like keeping their eyes all the way open is challenge enough at this point in the night—I sort of wish they’d go before me, because I think they’ll probably make me look good in following.
After watching Nick’s respectable run, I take a deep breath and hand my money, my release and my dignity to the man in the control booth. “Listen,” I tell him. “I’m a personal trainer and I don’t have disability insurance, so if I get hurt, I’m not going to be able to pay my rent.”
He laughs. “Just keep your legs forward and let all the movement happen right here,” he says, gesturing to his pelvis. Hmm. I’ve got hips and I can shake it with the best of ‘em. I should be able to handle this.
No one told me how hard it would be to get on the bull, especially after doing a self-servingly large dose of triceps dips the day before. I manage to pull a beached whale meets Spiderman kind of move, though, and get myself righted on the bull without too much trouble.
I was surprised, honestly, at how determined I felt during my “ride.” I swear I clenched my inner thighs tighter than Xenia in Goldeneye. (Xenia is one of my favorite Bond villains, for obvious reasons. Check her out here). I gripped the handle on the back of that bull with gusto normally reserved for the passenger side door of my car when my boyfriend is driving. I was really and truly motivated. I was also a little tipsy and way too competitive for my own good, but who’s keeping track?
Believe it or not, I got bored on that bull. I think the man in the control booth underestimated me—I could have handled quite a bit more buck than he was dishing out. When I finally started to slip of toward the side of the bull, I had a short conference with myself.
“Rachel,” I said, “you can be the girl who wouldn’t give up and ride the side of this bull for a while. Your shirt may fall off and you may not feel your legs for a couple of days, but you will have the glory of being Little Miss Can’t Let Go. Otherwise, you can roll off onto those nice soft mats and go finish your beer with your friends.”
I think it’s pretty obvious what I decided to do. Even I know when to throw the towel in (most of the time).
My legs are killing me today. My inner thighs have the kind of fatigue that means things are going to get worse before they get better, and my lower back and abs have the tingly reminder that activity occurred there recently. Both of my pointer fingers are bruised where my Death grip met the handle of the mechanical bull. There's no denying it: on a Saturday night, out with my friends and three drinks in, I managed to get in a workout, and it was fantastically fun. How awesome is that?
I’m posting a video of my cowgirl experience—it is of unfortunately hairy quality, and in chunks, as it was taken with a digital camera. I have to say, I feel pretty good about my attempt. My core is a little floppy, my legs don’t stay forward and my form can definitely use some work, but I’m smiling through pretty much the whole thing and I think that’s kind of cool. And next time? Totally doing the “air lasso” with one arm.
Round #1--Ding!
Round #2! (Watch for the graceful dismount...)
That's a wrap. Yee-haw!
Answer: Riding a mechanical bull!! (duh)
Somehow, around 11:00pm last night, I found myself standing in line holding a five dollar bill and a contract releasing the Saddle Rack of Fremont, California from all liability concerning the ridiculous acts I was about to perform. In front of me is Nick, the boyfriend of one of my clients (who has become a dear friend), eagerly detailing the finer points of his bull-riding strategy and plans for total bovine domination. Behind me are two scantily clad girls who look like keeping their eyes all the way open is challenge enough at this point in the night—I sort of wish they’d go before me, because I think they’ll probably make me look good in following.
After watching Nick’s respectable run, I take a deep breath and hand my money, my release and my dignity to the man in the control booth. “Listen,” I tell him. “I’m a personal trainer and I don’t have disability insurance, so if I get hurt, I’m not going to be able to pay my rent.”
He laughs. “Just keep your legs forward and let all the movement happen right here,” he says, gesturing to his pelvis. Hmm. I’ve got hips and I can shake it with the best of ‘em. I should be able to handle this.
No one told me how hard it would be to get on the bull, especially after doing a self-servingly large dose of triceps dips the day before. I manage to pull a beached whale meets Spiderman kind of move, though, and get myself righted on the bull without too much trouble.
I was surprised, honestly, at how determined I felt during my “ride.” I swear I clenched my inner thighs tighter than Xenia in Goldeneye. (Xenia is one of my favorite Bond villains, for obvious reasons. Check her out here). I gripped the handle on the back of that bull with gusto normally reserved for the passenger side door of my car when my boyfriend is driving. I was really and truly motivated. I was also a little tipsy and way too competitive for my own good, but who’s keeping track?
Believe it or not, I got bored on that bull. I think the man in the control booth underestimated me—I could have handled quite a bit more buck than he was dishing out. When I finally started to slip of toward the side of the bull, I had a short conference with myself.
“Rachel,” I said, “you can be the girl who wouldn’t give up and ride the side of this bull for a while. Your shirt may fall off and you may not feel your legs for a couple of days, but you will have the glory of being Little Miss Can’t Let Go. Otherwise, you can roll off onto those nice soft mats and go finish your beer with your friends.”
I think it’s pretty obvious what I decided to do. Even I know when to throw the towel in (most of the time).
My legs are killing me today. My inner thighs have the kind of fatigue that means things are going to get worse before they get better, and my lower back and abs have the tingly reminder that activity occurred there recently. Both of my pointer fingers are bruised where my Death grip met the handle of the mechanical bull. There's no denying it: on a Saturday night, out with my friends and three drinks in, I managed to get in a workout, and it was fantastically fun. How awesome is that?
I’m posting a video of my cowgirl experience—it is of unfortunately hairy quality, and in chunks, as it was taken with a digital camera. I have to say, I feel pretty good about my attempt. My core is a little floppy, my legs don’t stay forward and my form can definitely use some work, but I’m smiling through pretty much the whole thing and I think that’s kind of cool. And next time? Totally doing the “air lasso” with one arm.
Round #1--Ding!
Round #2! (Watch for the graceful dismount...)
That's a wrap. Yee-haw!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
What do you mean itsy bitsy? That thing is HUGE!
I’ve been killing a lot of spiders lately. I’m not sure if it’s just that my house is kind of old and near a woodsy area or if it’s the 100 degree days we’ve been having, but either way, I’ve noticed a lot of 8-legged roommates in my home the last couple of days—and they aren’t paying rent.
I’m not sure when I developed my disdain for insects. It almost seems like it was instinctive—a rite of passage if you will—for a young American girl in suburbia. It’s easiest for me to blame it on my older sister, though, so I will—I’m pretty sure watching her scream at the presence of anything with an exoskeleton taught me at an early age that bugs, spiders and the rest of them were “gross.” I know I went through a period where I was scared to even get within squishing distance of a spider, let alone do the deed. In my house though, it was Mom not Dad, who did the dirty defense work against the creepy crawlers who found their way inside and good lord she was merciless! Those little guys didn’t stand a chance—she’d bust them with her bare hands if there wasn’t a Kleenex handy. When I went away to college and beyond, there was always a brave roommate who would step up to plate to take care of the inconvenience, or at very least, make it a team effort.
It wasn’t until I finally ditched the endless train of roommates for a solo living situation a few months ago that I was faced with the reality that if I didn’t take matters in to my own hands (or feet, as stomping often proves very effective) I was going to have a cast of housemates I hadn’t bargained for. When I found my first intruder about a month after I moved in, I froze. He was huge and black most certainly a deadly threat. Worse yet, he was sitting on the wall behind the side of the refrigerator, making the patented “throw shoe and run” move impossible. So… I “Tilex-ed” him. And he was done. Real fast. That spray bottle does wonders for my shower tiles and must be toxic as hell because that guy was done in 2.5.
With the passing months I’ve become more comfortable living by myself, and in turn, more comfortable taking care of the pests I find inside my home. Now when I see a spider, I roll my eyes—say a quick “I’m sorry” to the little guy’s wife and kids, wherever they may be, and with the *thwack* of a flip flop it’s over.
Learning to make healthy choices is a lot like killing spiders. It’s not something you particularly like doing but it needs to be done unless you want to deal with the consequence, be it high blood pressure, inability to enjoy day to day life or a gigantic spider bite on your butt (yes, it happened). However, as we repeatedly force ourselves to take care of the issue at hand in the most appropriate manner, we practice the act. With practice comes habit and eventually our habitual actions and decisions are so ingrained we no longer have to actively choose to make them.
We will all have slip ups. Even when we think our salad ordering, weight lifting and yoga posing habits are permanent, there will be moments where we seem to “undo” all our practicing and revert back to old ways. We will eat the hostess cupcake, skip the workout for the third day in a row or “forget” to stretch after a run. What’s important is that we allow ourselves this humanness and move forward.
Two nights ago there was a particularly large spider sitting boldy in the middle of my living room floor. I was so ticked off at his audacity that I put a cup over him. He is sitting there, as I write this, in the same spot on my living room floor trapped in his glassy little prison. I don’t know if I’m waiting for some magical roommate to come home and take it outside or for my Mom (who always thought it was pretty wimpy to be scared of bugs) to show up rolling her eyes and carrying a wad of executioner’s tissues. Maybe when we make bad decisions about our health we’re subconsciously hoping someone will come and whip us in to shape, tell us what to do. I know Mom isn’t going to drive 15 minutes to kill a spider for me, so chances are, no fairly godmother of weight loss is going to flutter into your kitchen and remove the spoonful of cookie dough from your hands.
We are our own best resource. Trainers and nutritionists--even doctors--can only do so much. The vast majority of your decisions are left in your hands. Making good decisions and killing spiders—they both take courage, planning and most importantly, practice. As we solidify our healthy habits independently, we become more self-sufficient and confident and confidence is the most wonderful measure of success.
I’m not sure when I developed my disdain for insects. It almost seems like it was instinctive—a rite of passage if you will—for a young American girl in suburbia. It’s easiest for me to blame it on my older sister, though, so I will—I’m pretty sure watching her scream at the presence of anything with an exoskeleton taught me at an early age that bugs, spiders and the rest of them were “gross.” I know I went through a period where I was scared to even get within squishing distance of a spider, let alone do the deed. In my house though, it was Mom not Dad, who did the dirty defense work against the creepy crawlers who found their way inside and good lord she was merciless! Those little guys didn’t stand a chance—she’d bust them with her bare hands if there wasn’t a Kleenex handy. When I went away to college and beyond, there was always a brave roommate who would step up to plate to take care of the inconvenience, or at very least, make it a team effort.
It wasn’t until I finally ditched the endless train of roommates for a solo living situation a few months ago that I was faced with the reality that if I didn’t take matters in to my own hands (or feet, as stomping often proves very effective) I was going to have a cast of housemates I hadn’t bargained for. When I found my first intruder about a month after I moved in, I froze. He was huge and black most certainly a deadly threat. Worse yet, he was sitting on the wall behind the side of the refrigerator, making the patented “throw shoe and run” move impossible. So… I “Tilex-ed” him. And he was done. Real fast. That spray bottle does wonders for my shower tiles and must be toxic as hell because that guy was done in 2.5.
With the passing months I’ve become more comfortable living by myself, and in turn, more comfortable taking care of the pests I find inside my home. Now when I see a spider, I roll my eyes—say a quick “I’m sorry” to the little guy’s wife and kids, wherever they may be, and with the *thwack* of a flip flop it’s over.
Learning to make healthy choices is a lot like killing spiders. It’s not something you particularly like doing but it needs to be done unless you want to deal with the consequence, be it high blood pressure, inability to enjoy day to day life or a gigantic spider bite on your butt (yes, it happened). However, as we repeatedly force ourselves to take care of the issue at hand in the most appropriate manner, we practice the act. With practice comes habit and eventually our habitual actions and decisions are so ingrained we no longer have to actively choose to make them.
We will all have slip ups. Even when we think our salad ordering, weight lifting and yoga posing habits are permanent, there will be moments where we seem to “undo” all our practicing and revert back to old ways. We will eat the hostess cupcake, skip the workout for the third day in a row or “forget” to stretch after a run. What’s important is that we allow ourselves this humanness and move forward.
Two nights ago there was a particularly large spider sitting boldy in the middle of my living room floor. I was so ticked off at his audacity that I put a cup over him. He is sitting there, as I write this, in the same spot on my living room floor trapped in his glassy little prison. I don’t know if I’m waiting for some magical roommate to come home and take it outside or for my Mom (who always thought it was pretty wimpy to be scared of bugs) to show up rolling her eyes and carrying a wad of executioner’s tissues. Maybe when we make bad decisions about our health we’re subconsciously hoping someone will come and whip us in to shape, tell us what to do. I know Mom isn’t going to drive 15 minutes to kill a spider for me, so chances are, no fairly godmother of weight loss is going to flutter into your kitchen and remove the spoonful of cookie dough from your hands.
We are our own best resource. Trainers and nutritionists--even doctors--can only do so much. The vast majority of your decisions are left in your hands. Making good decisions and killing spiders—they both take courage, planning and most importantly, practice. As we solidify our healthy habits independently, we become more self-sufficient and confident and confidence is the most wonderful measure of success.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wax on, wax off
I had an interesting experience today. I was at my favorite day spa getting my eyebrows done (what--you think these babies wax themselves? Greatness takes effort.) by my favorite esthetician who happens to be the friendliest most bubbly person I have ever met (shout out to Sara C. and the rest of the Nilou Day Spa staff—woot!), when she made a comment that really struck me.
“You know, you and I essentially do really similar things. Our jobs are about making people feel good about them selves,” she says as she rips a wax strip away from my face.
I am proud to say I resisted the temptation to point out that both of our jobs also involve people paying us to inflict all manner of pains on various parts of their bodies. Instead, I left her a nice tip and walked back to my car considering the insights she had offered.
Day spas, nail and hair salons, massage parlors: we immediately connect these types of businesses with pleasure. We go into them wanting attention and walk out looking (but more importantly, feeling) better than when we walked in. This, too, should be the order of events for a workout with a personal trainer.
The notion that personal trainers are little more than glorified slave drivers bent on torturing their charges into a perfectly sculpted six pack with limbs is especially troubling to me because all too often it’s true. Watch any of the wide variety of reality shows centered around weight loss or fitness and you’ll see the stereotypical, hard bodied trainers doing stale, traditional exercises and screaming their faces off at their miserable clients. As far as we have come in the industry, there is still an unfortunate lingering of the “no pain, no gain” mentality. What is important to realize, is that not all personal trainers have this mentality anymore.
Think of the attitude of a trainer towards his or her clients as falling on a spectrum with ends labeled “torture” and “indulgence.” A good trainer will not only achieve a balance of the two (therefore falling in the middle of the spectrum), but will also maintain a strong enough relationship with his clients that he can move between the two extremes according to his client’s needs on any particular day. In short, a trainer should be able to adjust his approach to a workout at a moment’s notice in order to ensure his client leaves feeling absolutely the best he or she possibly can.
I wish there was a way for my esthetician to do this, but I don’t’ think there’s any feasible way to “indulge” a Jewish girl with a unibrow. Hey, torture or not, my eyebrows look amazing and I'm feeling pretty good. (Thanks Sara!)
“You know, you and I essentially do really similar things. Our jobs are about making people feel good about them selves,” she says as she rips a wax strip away from my face.
I am proud to say I resisted the temptation to point out that both of our jobs also involve people paying us to inflict all manner of pains on various parts of their bodies. Instead, I left her a nice tip and walked back to my car considering the insights she had offered.
Day spas, nail and hair salons, massage parlors: we immediately connect these types of businesses with pleasure. We go into them wanting attention and walk out looking (but more importantly, feeling) better than when we walked in. This, too, should be the order of events for a workout with a personal trainer.
The notion that personal trainers are little more than glorified slave drivers bent on torturing their charges into a perfectly sculpted six pack with limbs is especially troubling to me because all too often it’s true. Watch any of the wide variety of reality shows centered around weight loss or fitness and you’ll see the stereotypical, hard bodied trainers doing stale, traditional exercises and screaming their faces off at their miserable clients. As far as we have come in the industry, there is still an unfortunate lingering of the “no pain, no gain” mentality. What is important to realize, is that not all personal trainers have this mentality anymore.
Think of the attitude of a trainer towards his or her clients as falling on a spectrum with ends labeled “torture” and “indulgence.” A good trainer will not only achieve a balance of the two (therefore falling in the middle of the spectrum), but will also maintain a strong enough relationship with his clients that he can move between the two extremes according to his client’s needs on any particular day. In short, a trainer should be able to adjust his approach to a workout at a moment’s notice in order to ensure his client leaves feeling absolutely the best he or she possibly can.
I wish there was a way for my esthetician to do this, but I don’t’ think there’s any feasible way to “indulge” a Jewish girl with a unibrow. Hey, torture or not, my eyebrows look amazing and I'm feeling pretty good. (Thanks Sara!)
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