You’ve heard me say that I need to start deliberately exercising again. Truth is, I love it. I love listening to music and watching the terrain pass under my feet as I roam the forests or trails or even the city paths that I take my running shoes onto. But like many things I love to do, they are not made a priority in my life. It just seems there are so many other urgent, more important things to do. Though I have managed to cobble together a little more exercise lately, I am looking to take myself a little more seriously in this regard. Excuses be gone!
Can I give you a list of excuses I have for not setting time aside for exercise? Perhaps this will give you ideas to add to your own list of excuses. Because today I plan to burn them all!
Actually, I would rather you give me some of the tricks you use to get yourself to move more. I’ll give you some of my own later. But first, excuses:
1. It is selfish to take time like this. Others need me and I have more important things to do with my time.
2. I am worried I am going to injure myself because I am overweight. I need to lose weight before I can exercise.
3. I just ate too large a meal and will get cramps if I exercise…OR I’m too hungry and my blood sugar is too low to exercise.
4. If I start to get back into shape I will become obsessive and compulsive about it and I want to stay present for my family. OR…I do not have enough discipline to reach my goals.
5. If I wake up early to go and exercise I will wake up my children which means either I will have to exercise with the ‘help’ of my kids or leave Rob to deal with 2 underslept children because I woke them up. (aka My children might need me).
6. I don’t live near any facilities like I used to (ski trails, rowing lakes, yoga studios, swimming pools, skating rinks).
7. If I push myself too hard I’m going to have a heart attack and die and I want to be there when my daughter gets married….(the irony of this statement is not lost of me, I promise!)
8. I will never be as strong or as fast or go as far as I used to. I cannot do what that other person is doing, so why bother?
9. I’m too old, I have kids now, I live in the country now, I’m not the same person anymore.
10. The snow is too deep, the winds too strong, the bugs too many, hunting season too scary (this one is a very real, smart fear for my forest runs), my dogs will run away, my neighbours will laugh at me, my kids can’t come with me, my husband needs me in the fields, I didn’t get enough sleep…
Am I lazy? Do I lack drive? I doubt that very much. But the excuses are very real to me in every moment. And at times, can paralyze what might otherwise be a spry existence.
It is time to remember all of the times that I was active.
I have swam, rowed, ran, hiked, walked, danced, biked, and weight-lifted myself back into shape from very sedentary existences in the past. Why can I not do it again - especially when I'm starting with the bonus of having done physical work throughout the summer in fits and spurts?
I know I have an inspired girl in there somewhere. I need to make it a regular habit again. I need it to be as important as it was in the past. I need to…um…just do it.
It might be easy to say that I’m just not that type of person anymore. But I doubt that very much. What I have seen is what regular movement gives back to me. Once you experience those benefits, you’re hooked. Its just a matter of getting past the humiliation stage of being out of shape, or not as strong as you once were, or getting over the fact that the opportunities are not as convenient. Though, I have to admit, I've decided that my forties could unfold a creature that is in the best shape of her life, if I let them.
The benefits I remember in no particular order are: confidence, better sleeping habits, strength, health (breathing patterns, heart rates, cholesterol etc.), clearer thinking, better endurance, more social connections, more energy, a desire to eat better, a need to sit less, and a willingness to take advantage of creative ways to make exercise happen no matter what the obstacles. That’s a fine list of positive things, isn’t it?
What kind of circumstances helped make these things happen? Without question, beginning was always the most difficult. Every beginning was as tough as the last no matter what my past successes looked like. Continuing with my habit was easier with the momentum. It helped to involve others. Either tell them what I was trying to do or make them come with me to do it. Lately I’ve decided that my dogs need exercise – perhaps I could do it for them if not for me. Making an inspiring play list on my music player has also been key. Any opportunity to listen to music is one I will strive to make happen. Audio books also a plus. Having my treadmill out without a clothes line worth of clothes hanging on it is key. Knowing where my running shoes are, keeping a neat pile of the pants, shirt and socks I need to change into whenever the mood strikes. In short, making it accessible, enjoyable and about far more than, well, just exercise.
So, my new goal? To move at a reasonably intense level at least 45 minutes, 3-4 times a week (every other day). I have dusted off my treadmill at home which will help in those less-inspired days where I don’t feel like hauling my lazy butt in public. What will keep me going? The fact that I have told you about it, and likely now have to report back, don’t I? I have also just sent an email to some friends I want to go hiking with in the late spring. That mountain will not be eluding me, I won’t let that happen.
Where will I find the time? Well, being a person who just finished her ‘work year’, its easy right? I have all the time in the world? Guess again – I’ve got renovations, periodically sick kids, social distractions, farm repairs, the need to contribute to my community more…this list is endless. Please don’t fancy me a girl with nothing better to do. I am you – with a little more wiggle room at the moment – but only just for now. I plan to take the hour before the school bus arrives, shortly after lunch and before the snack urges hit.
How tired I am of all of the excuses. Now that I have written them, I believe I can no longer use them. I have exposed them to the light and lies don’t care much for that kind of exposure. They were all lies really, weren’t they? And I’m more of a truth junkie at heart.
Please tell me what inspires you to keep moving, how you quell the negative thoughts that prevent you from exercising and what your routine looks like if you wish.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Joy Where You Least Expect It (aka Brussel Sprouts)
I recently made my last foray into the fields to clear out the brussel sprouts before a super hard frost takes them away. My husband harvested the last of the spinach so that I can freeze some spanokopita. I’ve tried twice now on the spinach, feta, phyllo layered pie and each time the 9X12 pan got eaten before it ever hit the freezer. I love this dish as a Christmas appetizer and we often do not have garbage bags full of baby spinach during the holiday season. So stock up I must.
It was the first Saturday since the beginning of May that we could call our own as market ended for us last week. It was a sunny, warm, November day (I can honestly say that I can’t remember ever saying November, sun and warm in the same sentence before). Our children played in the mud. Life was pretty good.
As I made my way down the row of brussel sprouts plants I remarked on the pure joy I was getting out of being there, doing this. Wasn’t this the same job that had drained me of all joy just weeks prior? And yet, here I was, in heaven. Upon further examination (cause you know I couldn’t leave it unexamined), I realized the joy came from not worrying about how many pints I would pick. What the labour costs would be if we paid someone to do it. What we would price them at. Whether they would all sell and how I would preserve them to prevent any waste if they didn’t sell. I loved that the only concerns for that moment were between my hands, my knees, this plant and our dinner table.
This was always the part of farming that made my heart sing and my spirits soar. Feeding the family. Feeding the neighbours, or the food bank or our parents or nephews or dogs or friends would be fine too. It is the business of it all that doesn’t suit my fancy.
I have always wondered whether it is possible to create a business out of your life’s dream and still get enjoyment from the process. I suppose it depends how you go about it and what motivates you. If money thrills you then the business would be the beginning and end of it perhaps. If the creation aspects were the only parts that got you going, then making money from it could be a bit of a problem. But if you know this in advance, perhaps there are ways around spoiling your passion with business that I have not found yet.
As a songwriter in my thirties, I marveled at the very talented people who put their music out there and toured their little hearts out without losing themselves. Or perhaps they did and hid it well. One friend of mine who found great success in the UK and Canada agreed how lonely a life it was to be on a stage singing to a crowd of people. Nobody every talks about this.
I recall standing alone in a bar in Toronto one night, it was nearing midnight (an hour that I have never done that well at) and I was getting ready to go on stage. This was probably the pinnacle of my foray into the musical industry. The best gig I’d had to date. It was at this moment that I realized that this life was not for me. I was a homebody. An early-riser. And someone who did not care for performing exactly. I enjoyed the community of musicians around me and the songwriting process, but not the actual delivery of the songs. Perhaps if I could have been smart and hired a publicist and a tour manager, this would have allowed me better to focus on songwriting and my relationship with my instruments. Instead, I felt drained and overwhelmed from it all.
Drained and overwhelmed. Doesn’t that sound familiar?
I now know I’m not someone who fares well with making a business around my artistic endeavours. My creative self is a free-agent and needs to fly without limits or boundaries or schedules. That said, there is a side of me that thrives on driving towards big, lofty things. Not expectations. But grand ideas about possibilities. Contradictory, I know. I want to learn how to bridge the gap so that I can continue to do the things I love without having them consume me.
So somewhere between the songs and the brussel sprouts, I found joy again where I had grown weary. There is hope for me yet.
I want so badly to remember what it was like to write songs for the pure joy of it. They once came to me like a voice from the heavens and guided me through anything if I’d let them. I never felt like their driver.
I once hated brussel sprouts. I was that kid who ate one a year because I had to try everything on my plate. Now I have discovered that they are an extreme delight and I can’t get enough of them. Perhaps it is how they are grown here or picked or stored that makes them sweet, not bitter. Bursts of gorgeous, buttery, baby cabbage without need for the butter. My son can eat a dozen of them in one sitting.
So this is the moral of my story. There is joy to be found where there was once fear. Where hate once dwelled, a love can grow. What was drained can be filled again. What was overwhelmed can be renewed.
And November can be warm and sunny, especially when you least expect it.
It was the first Saturday since the beginning of May that we could call our own as market ended for us last week. It was a sunny, warm, November day (I can honestly say that I can’t remember ever saying November, sun and warm in the same sentence before). Our children played in the mud. Life was pretty good.
As I made my way down the row of brussel sprouts plants I remarked on the pure joy I was getting out of being there, doing this. Wasn’t this the same job that had drained me of all joy just weeks prior? And yet, here I was, in heaven. Upon further examination (cause you know I couldn’t leave it unexamined), I realized the joy came from not worrying about how many pints I would pick. What the labour costs would be if we paid someone to do it. What we would price them at. Whether they would all sell and how I would preserve them to prevent any waste if they didn’t sell. I loved that the only concerns for that moment were between my hands, my knees, this plant and our dinner table.
This was always the part of farming that made my heart sing and my spirits soar. Feeding the family. Feeding the neighbours, or the food bank or our parents or nephews or dogs or friends would be fine too. It is the business of it all that doesn’t suit my fancy.
I have always wondered whether it is possible to create a business out of your life’s dream and still get enjoyment from the process. I suppose it depends how you go about it and what motivates you. If money thrills you then the business would be the beginning and end of it perhaps. If the creation aspects were the only parts that got you going, then making money from it could be a bit of a problem. But if you know this in advance, perhaps there are ways around spoiling your passion with business that I have not found yet.
As a songwriter in my thirties, I marveled at the very talented people who put their music out there and toured their little hearts out without losing themselves. Or perhaps they did and hid it well. One friend of mine who found great success in the UK and Canada agreed how lonely a life it was to be on a stage singing to a crowd of people. Nobody every talks about this.
I recall standing alone in a bar in Toronto one night, it was nearing midnight (an hour that I have never done that well at) and I was getting ready to go on stage. This was probably the pinnacle of my foray into the musical industry. The best gig I’d had to date. It was at this moment that I realized that this life was not for me. I was a homebody. An early-riser. And someone who did not care for performing exactly. I enjoyed the community of musicians around me and the songwriting process, but not the actual delivery of the songs. Perhaps if I could have been smart and hired a publicist and a tour manager, this would have allowed me better to focus on songwriting and my relationship with my instruments. Instead, I felt drained and overwhelmed from it all.
Drained and overwhelmed. Doesn’t that sound familiar?
I now know I’m not someone who fares well with making a business around my artistic endeavours. My creative self is a free-agent and needs to fly without limits or boundaries or schedules. That said, there is a side of me that thrives on driving towards big, lofty things. Not expectations. But grand ideas about possibilities. Contradictory, I know. I want to learn how to bridge the gap so that I can continue to do the things I love without having them consume me.
So somewhere between the songs and the brussel sprouts, I found joy again where I had grown weary. There is hope for me yet.
I want so badly to remember what it was like to write songs for the pure joy of it. They once came to me like a voice from the heavens and guided me through anything if I’d let them. I never felt like their driver.
I once hated brussel sprouts. I was that kid who ate one a year because I had to try everything on my plate. Now I have discovered that they are an extreme delight and I can’t get enough of them. Perhaps it is how they are grown here or picked or stored that makes them sweet, not bitter. Bursts of gorgeous, buttery, baby cabbage without need for the butter. My son can eat a dozen of them in one sitting.
So this is the moral of my story. There is joy to be found where there was once fear. Where hate once dwelled, a love can grow. What was drained can be filled again. What was overwhelmed can be renewed.
And November can be warm and sunny, especially when you least expect it.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Aim for a Target (or Build One)
I’ve never been one for setting goals. I learned very early on in life that they were a sure way to find out the degree to which I was willing to let myself down. So being an energetic, resourceful sort of person I began to fling myself madly in all directions and then look up at the end to see what I had accomplished. I could meet physical demands this way, work or career goals, romantic aspirations, family desires, lifestyle changes...there was no limit to the directions I could fling. Looking back, I am very satisfied with the milestones of my life, but I do wonder what might have been if I had actually set myself up on a path towards a specific target. In other words, believed in myself and what I could do.
Now that I’m getting a little older and my two wees ones have taken every last bit of extra energy I might have left, it is time to start focusing my energy. My husband has immense focus when he is working on something. Watching our two figures working you would see the steady work horse that is he and the Tasmanian devil that is spinning circles and racing back and forth, to and fro, that is me. In the end we both get the same amount done in the same amount of time. Until recently, I found this infuriating. Now I think it deserves some attention.
So grateful am I to have been given this budget on my energy. I no longer can (or want to) do everything I can fling out in a day. I would rather distribute my energy wisely, with intention, with focus and towards something I have my eye on. I am going to set up some real goals and…well…being the big girl I am now, go ahead and reach them. No more letting myself down. No more selling myself short. That was so last year.
To be honest, I have always been secretly and quietly afraid of my potential. Marianne Williamson calls this a woman’s biggest fear. Not of being inadequate but of being capable beyond measure. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’ve had a boogeyman-type of thing lurking in my closet all of my life and if I ever just turned to let him out, everything would change. My superpowers would be unleashed and I would now be responsible for having a true impact on the world. I would have to own up to my contributions because they did not come about accidentally.
I don’t mean to be self-deprecating here. I think I’ve done a pretty good job with my days. Really, I am proud, if still insecure. I’ve done my best and managed to work some cool stuff into existence. But I still think there is more - much more waiting in the wings. And I’m far too curious to leave that stone unturned despite evidence that I am heading into the ‘latter’ portion of my life.
I started my vision board today. I had the help of my 3 year old boy and 5 year old girl. He cut out all of the sharks and things with wheels. She cut out everything to do with chocolate, butterflies, babies and puppies. Mine? Well, it is still very much a work in progress. Lots of words and quotes – even a couple of insipirational articles by my favourite writer, Martha Beck. Loads of food pictures. Anything to do with colour sequences, make-up (though I don’t wear any), shoes (though my plastic flip-flops or Sorrel winters are my usual style), flags, flowers…a colour explosion.
The process was fantastic. And despite knowing lately that I wanted to create some kind of target for myself, I have been unable to figure out exactly what it would look like. The photo cutting was extremely helpful to move towards shaping this goal. Perhaps it was an exercise in re-discovering the kinds of things I like. Many would attest to the fact that raising wee children can make one forget even what flavour of ice cream they prefer. It just ain’t about you for quite some time, isn’t it?
One important discovery is that I don’t think I necessarily need to find an existing target out there in the world. I may need to build it from scratch. Most things I like to do from scratch, so why not this? It might not be something that anyone has built before. And that should be just fine. My own little mystery to unravel.
So find a target, write it down, paste it up with pictures, tell a friend (or ten), map it out, know the who/what/where’s/whens/whys and with whoms about it.
And last but not least. Don’t sell yourself short. I don’t know you that well, but I know that you are able to do far more than you probably believe. I know this for you more than I know it for myself. Not in an 'over-doing' kind of way, but in a taking care of yourself and giving the best of yourself with the time that you have.
But as always, do it with kindness, patience, permission and surrender. And let me know how it goes!
Now that I’m getting a little older and my two wees ones have taken every last bit of extra energy I might have left, it is time to start focusing my energy. My husband has immense focus when he is working on something. Watching our two figures working you would see the steady work horse that is he and the Tasmanian devil that is spinning circles and racing back and forth, to and fro, that is me. In the end we both get the same amount done in the same amount of time. Until recently, I found this infuriating. Now I think it deserves some attention.
So grateful am I to have been given this budget on my energy. I no longer can (or want to) do everything I can fling out in a day. I would rather distribute my energy wisely, with intention, with focus and towards something I have my eye on. I am going to set up some real goals and…well…being the big girl I am now, go ahead and reach them. No more letting myself down. No more selling myself short. That was so last year.
To be honest, I have always been secretly and quietly afraid of my potential. Marianne Williamson calls this a woman’s biggest fear. Not of being inadequate but of being capable beyond measure. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’ve had a boogeyman-type of thing lurking in my closet all of my life and if I ever just turned to let him out, everything would change. My superpowers would be unleashed and I would now be responsible for having a true impact on the world. I would have to own up to my contributions because they did not come about accidentally.
I don’t mean to be self-deprecating here. I think I’ve done a pretty good job with my days. Really, I am proud, if still insecure. I’ve done my best and managed to work some cool stuff into existence. But I still think there is more - much more waiting in the wings. And I’m far too curious to leave that stone unturned despite evidence that I am heading into the ‘latter’ portion of my life.
I started my vision board today. I had the help of my 3 year old boy and 5 year old girl. He cut out all of the sharks and things with wheels. She cut out everything to do with chocolate, butterflies, babies and puppies. Mine? Well, it is still very much a work in progress. Lots of words and quotes – even a couple of insipirational articles by my favourite writer, Martha Beck. Loads of food pictures. Anything to do with colour sequences, make-up (though I don’t wear any), shoes (though my plastic flip-flops or Sorrel winters are my usual style), flags, flowers…a colour explosion.
The process was fantastic. And despite knowing lately that I wanted to create some kind of target for myself, I have been unable to figure out exactly what it would look like. The photo cutting was extremely helpful to move towards shaping this goal. Perhaps it was an exercise in re-discovering the kinds of things I like. Many would attest to the fact that raising wee children can make one forget even what flavour of ice cream they prefer. It just ain’t about you for quite some time, isn’t it?
One important discovery is that I don’t think I necessarily need to find an existing target out there in the world. I may need to build it from scratch. Most things I like to do from scratch, so why not this? It might not be something that anyone has built before. And that should be just fine. My own little mystery to unravel.
So find a target, write it down, paste it up with pictures, tell a friend (or ten), map it out, know the who/what/where’s/whens/whys and with whoms about it.
And last but not least. Don’t sell yourself short. I don’t know you that well, but I know that you are able to do far more than you probably believe. I know this for you more than I know it for myself. Not in an 'over-doing' kind of way, but in a taking care of yourself and giving the best of yourself with the time that you have.
But as always, do it with kindness, patience, permission and surrender. And let me know how it goes!
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