Day 11: It's Not Always Wine And Roses; Sometimes It's Prune Juice And Dandelions!

I love today's title. My grandmother used to say it in Sicilian to me when things didn't always turn out the way I thought they would.  


Speaking of things not turning out as expected, that would be me today. I may have overdone it at the Y yesterday. I felt good and thought I would try to push myself a little; riding the stationary bike a little longer at a higher tension and walking an extra half mile at a higher speed on the treadmill. I also did two sets of 12 instead of one set on the leg lift and leg push machines. And now I am paying for it. 


I should have come home yesterday and iced my knee, but I had other things going on and I just ignored it. This morning I awoke to a very swollen and painful muscle around the knee.  Also hot to the touch which doesn't seem to me a good thing.


So what to do? I took some ibuprofin, iced it and elevated it while I watched an episode of The West Wing (IMHO, the BEST show ever made for television). I couldn't decide if I should go to the Y and push on or rest my leg for a day. Then the skies opened up and it poured cats and dogs, thus giving me another reason to stay put. 


But what about my promise to exercise every day for the next 365 days? I can't wimp out after just 11 days, can I? No way! I turned on the television and looked through all the fitness shows On Demand. I was taken with name "Cardioke," so I checked it out. How much fun is that? I sat in a chair so as not to hurt my still swollen knee, and I just followed along with the upper body workout. Whew! I worked up as much sweat as a full workout! 


So, even though life gave me prune juice and dandelions today, I was still able to keep on keeping on by improvising a little. And it was a nice change. And I can still count today as an exercise day. Some days you just gotta get creative.

Day 10: Someone Told Me It's All Happening At The "Y"

Six months ago I had total knee replacement surgery on my right knee (I had the same surgery on my left knee in 2009). After I got out of the hospital I had home care, a physical therapist named Lucy, who came to the house twice a week to help me with exercises to strengthen my knee.


Lucy was a terrific therapist and I always enjoyed her visits. On one visit she received a phone call regarding the swim team that she coaches at the local Y. Now, at that time, my knowledge of the YMCA was next to nothing. I knew that it stood for the "Young Mens Christian Association," but that was about it. I had the erroneous idea that the Y was a place for disadvantaged youths by day and a homeless shelter by night. I don't know where I got that idea, but, boy, was I wrong!


Our local Y is a terrific place. First of all, it's clean. The locker rooms are clean, the gym is clean and the pool, my favorite part of the Y, is clean. It's also never crowded (although that may change once the community pools close for the summer). The only challenging part for me is getting out of the pool. It is hard to bend my knee deep enough to get up the vertical steps. But with my husband's help I can make it just fine. We swim on Saturday and Sunday, and the rest of the week, Monday through Friday, I work out in the gym. And did I mention the staff? I can't say enough good things about the staff at our Y. They are wonderful! Everyone there is knowledgeable and eager to help.


Having this resource available makes my 365 days of exercise a lot easier. I never liked to exercise but I have to say that because of the Y, I just might change the way I feel about it. And the Y is going to go a long way to helping me keep my promise to myself. This time, I think I just might reach my goal. And how sweet that will be!


Someone told me it's all happening at the Y, and they were right!


Peace/Love,
Betsy

Day 9: If It Was Easy Everybody Would Do It

It's been 9 days into my self-imposed undertaking to exercise every day for the next 365 days, and I haven't worked up the nerve to weigh myself yet. I decided I am not going weigh myself until I feel my bra getting looser. I always lose in my boobs first, which is okay with me 'cause I'm sick of carrying these puppies around.

In the meantime, while I'm waiting for my boobs to shrink, I have been fantasizing about the new wardrobe I will eventually need to buy. Now, I'm not one for fancy clothes, I'm all about comfort. As a writer, I'm home all day working at my computer, so a pair of jeans or khakis that fit me and flatter me, would be a dream come true. 

There was a picture of an outfit that I saw in a catalog called The Territory Ahead that I have been drooling over for years: it consists of a terrific pair of jeans, a crisp white t-shirt and the most beautifully simple leather jacket you've ever seen -- a warm chocolate color, sort of a boxy style that closes with a zipper. Casually elegant, I would say; Rachel Zoe would say, "I die!" 

That will be the first thing I'm going to buy when I reach my goal. What can I say, I'm a simple girl.

(If I can find a picture of this outfit I will post it!)

Day 8: I'm Just Sitting Here Waiting For My Real Life To Begin

When you were a child what did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be an actress. The next Merle Streep was my goal. I wanted to be a star! It was 1977 and I was 23 years old and time was a'wastin. I figured it was now or never, so I packed up my baby blue Kharman Ghia and drove from Pennsylvania to Hollywood. I lasted 3 months before I called my dad and begged him to send me enough money to get back home.

I thought I wanted to be an actress more than anything in the world. But I guess I didn't want it as bad as I thought I did. I didn't achieve my ultimate goal. Not because I wasn't talented enough (I thought I was!) and not that I didn't want it bad enough (I did!), but in the end I wasn't willing to do the hard thing. I wasn't willing to go through all the blood, sweat and tears that one has to go through to get recognized in Hollywood. But sometimes the hard way is the only way to reach your goal. 

I look at this 365 day exercise challenge I have set up for myself and I wonder if I will be able to keep it up. I know there will be trying times to come. I am reconciled to those days that will test my resolve. But this time I won't let anything stop me.  Every other time I've tried to diet and get in shape it failed, and I realize now that it wasn't that I didn't want to reach my goal, I just wasn't willing to do the hard thing... exercise, exercise, exercise.

But it's been 8 days now that I have stuck to my promise, 8 days of daily exercise and watching what I eat. That is longer than I have ever stuck to a diet or exercise program in my life. And this time I think I just might do it. Is it hard? Yes. But for the first time in my life I am not going to look for the easy way out. I am going to embrace my daily exercise routine, even though it's hard. Trying to get fit the easy way doesn't work; hopefully doing it the hard way, the right way, will work for me.

Peace/Love,

Betsy

Day7: I Like Children...They Taste Just Like Chicken!

Okay, for anyone out there who is offended by today's title, please forgive me. I have a wicked sense of humor. I had to develop a personality and sense of humor because I didn't have the 'pretty girl' gene working for me. But I digress...


It was hot again today; hotter than Hades. Instead of going to the YMCA, Eric and I thought we'd take a swim in our very nice community pool across the street. We went late in the evening, an hour before closing, when we thought most of the crowd would have gone home. It was 7:30 p.m. and the outdoor thermometer still read 102 degrees. And there was still a fair amount of people in the pool, mostly kids.


I slipped out of my flip-flops and walked over to the shallow end of the pool and stepped into the water. Warm water. Bath water. Soup water. Well, I thought, it's still wet and I can get some laps in if I could shoo the kids out of the lap lane.


Eric and I began our slow laps, sidestroking our way to the other end of the pool. I was bothered by a long hair (not mine) that became tangled between my fingers. On my way back to the other side of the pool I encountered two separate pieces of clear plastic floating on top of the water. Then a rubber football and a diving mask. It was about that time when I realized that the water felt a bit gamy and the smell was off, too. It still smelled of chlorine, but there was an underlying smell of sweaty gym socks.


I looked around at the small children in the pool and I wondered how many of them had peed in the water today.  At that point I decided to get out of the pool and go home, trying to dismiss the vivid images from my mind. Tomorrow I go back to working out in the YMCA gym. I won't have to think about swimming until next weekend.


Peace/Love,
Betsy

Day 6: My Goal Is To Get Back To My Original Weight: 8 lbs. 5 oz.

We are in the middle of a heat wave here in central Maryland. Yesterday the temperature was 105 degrees. When it gets that hot, I think of swimming. Ever since I was a kid I've loved to swim. The feel of that cool, clear water on my skin is just too, too delicious.


But for the last twenty years I have denied myself the pleasure of a good swim because I thought I was too fat and ugly to show myself at our neighborhood swimming pool. I would laughingly say to friends that the sight of me in a bathing suit might scare the children. I joked that I had the ugliest legs in Christendom. I was afraid people would stare.


And to make the situation even worse was the fact that our neighborhood pool is virtually across the street from my home. I can watch the bathers from my deck. In the twenty years that we have lived in this community I have gone swimming in that pool maybe 3 times. That is, until last year. 


In May of 2009 I had a total knee replacement performed on my left knee. Physical therapy was mandatory and when I was finished with physical therapy, it was important, Dr. C. said, that I continue exercising that knee to keep those muscles toned. Swimming, he said was the perfect exercise, because there is zero impact on your joints. 


So once the 10" incision running from several inches above my knee to mid-calf healed over, I put on the brand new swimsuit I'd bought online and Eric and I headed over to the pool. I took off my sun dress and looked down at my new robo-knee. Dotted scars from the surgical staples running down either side of the scar gave it a Frankenstein-like feel. Talk about scaring the children!


Thankfully the pool had a stairway leading into the shallow end of the pool (something that the Olympic-sized pool at the Y unfortunately doesn't have). I eased myself in, relishing the cool water all over my skin. I walked over to the lap lane and slowly began to sidestroke to the other end of the pool. The sun glistened on the clear water and for the first time in months I was free from the pain accompanying my operated knee. Swimming became a peaceful meditation for me.


For the rest of the summer I spent at least 40 minutes a day in that pool. And yes, there were some children that noticed my scar and once I overheard a young women say to her friend that she would kill herself if she ever got as fat as I was. Wait until you hit your mid-50's, I thought, undeterred by her vicious remark. 


By the end of summer my knee was working just like a real knee should work. I was grateful to not have the pain I endured before the operation and even more grateful to not have the pain I endured after the operation (which was significant, don't let anyone fool you. Total knee replacement is not for sissies!)


Now it is summer of 2010 and I am exercising my right knee that was operated on in February. Swimming really is the best medicine, not only for it's kindness to the joints, but for the way it quiets the mind. For me, swimming has become a much needed time for reflection and meditation.


As we used to whisper to one another in the halls of my Catholic high school: Non illegitimi carborundum. Translated from Latin it means: Don't let the bastards get you down!


Peace/Love,


Betsy

DAY 5: Eat, Drink and Be Merry, For Tomorrow We Diet!

Five days into my self-imposed exercise incarceration and I'm still standing! Well, after a good nap and a shower I can stand...for a little while. Now I understand why they always say "Check with your doctor before starting any exercise regimen." Exercise is not for sissies! I think the rule should be that you should already be in shape before exercising to get into shape. 

I have exercised for five days in a row, longer than I have ever exercised in my life. Physical fitness wasn't a high priority in our household when I was growing up. There were no 'daycamps' for kids  back in the good ol' '60's, or at least there weren't any in our little town. Summers were spent at the Town Park Pool, not so much swimming as baking in the sun slathered with baby oil. And the occasional game of hide-and-seek or kick-the-can could hardly be considered exercise. 

On Saturday afternoons after summer was over, you could find just about every kid in town at the Beetles' Alhambra Theater watching a double feature of Gothic horror movies starring Vincent Price, Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi. And everyone knows you need plenty of buttered popcorn, JuJuBees, Good and Plenty and Milky Way bars to get through that!

No one thought about the fat content of foods back then. My grandmother, an immigrant from Sicily and a fantastic cook, wouldn't know what to do if you took her olive oil away from her. Sunday dinner consisted of spaghetti and meatballs, topped with mounds of grated pecorino romano cheese and was the highlight of everyone's week. 

Then calorie counting became the latest thing and everyone carried around a calorie bible to check the calorie count of every possible morsel that went into their mouths. I remember my older sister Carmala introducing calorie counting to the family at one Sunday dinner. She knew the calorie count of everything and tried to convince everyone that calorie counting was the answer to keeping trim. The old-timers around the table, my grandmother, dad and aunts all poo-pooed the idea. "Just watch what you eat," my Aunt JuJu would say, "and don't eat too much. You don't have to do all that counting."

As it turns out, Aunt JuJu was right: she is now 80 years old, maybe 10 pounds more than she weighed 40 years ago, and has a boyfriend two years older than her. The two of them keep trim by going dancing every Saturday night. She still works as a hairdresser and goes up and down 14 very steep steps in her house more than several times a day. And her motto remains, "Just watch what you eat."

So I'm going to take a page from my Aunt JuJu's book and start watching what I eat. It's not that I don't know the good things to eat, I just intentionally never paid attention before. But today, five days into my exercise regime, I am not going to start dieting, but I am going to start watching with a very critical eye what I put into my mouth.

Betsy