To answer the question that I'm sure is on the top of ALL of your minds...yes, the title of this post is "an oily rubdown". To answer the obvious next question, no...I don't mean that in an R-Rated, only viewable after 1100p on Cinemax, kind of way. Rather, I'm talking about laying down on a warm, comfortable bed, half (maybe fully) naked, being massaged every so gently with heating body oils and lotions. Wow...there really is no good way to describe this. No matter how you say it, it still needs to arrive discreetly wrapped in brown paper. The point of all this...I'm talking about a mssage.
For years I was intrigued by massage. Not the act itself, rather the fact that people are ok with another rubbing them all over, and I mean all over. Talk about vulnerability. Then there was the ever-looming concern: "What if it moved?" To quote George Constanza. So, the concern of another person with whom I am not intimately involved touching me in places directly adjacent to my giblets, couled with the even deeper concern that "it" might move always kept me away from massage.
All this ended when I left college and entered the working world. If you can believe it, I was working a job that required me to actually work from 9-5, five days a week..back then that was a hard day. Man I miss that.
Anway, I beloged to a small gym near my office. Perhaps it was from squeezing my phone between my shoulder and ear all day, whild cold calling in a desperate attempt to sell a useless product, or perhaps it was the stress of those "long" days. Whatever it was, I noticed they offered massage...sign me up.
The next night, I came in. Nervous, reticent, shy (and any other synonym for those three words). The front desk attendant showed me to the room, where she instructed me to undress. Gladly, because of course, I thought she was the massage therapist...oh how very wrong I was.
I dropped trou, folded them over the chair and climbed up on the table. As soon as I laid down, in came the real massage therapist. X was his name, short for Xantho. He was a 6' 6" and weighed somewhere north of 280lbs. I think it was safe to say, no matter what, "it" wasn't going anywhere.
X asked me what massage I'd like. At that time I knew more about laying asphalt than I did massage. I said, goofily "the kind that makes me relaxed". And off we went.
I'll save you the details of the experience, except to say X didn't come anywhere near my giblets, spending most of the time on my back and shoulders , and "it" didn't so much as shift around.
When it was all over, 60 minutes later, X left the room after I thanked him. It took me 20 minutes or so to really collect myself. I stayed on the table for a bit, drifting in and out of sleep, as I had for the entire hour-long massage itself.
I sleepily stood up from the table, absently dressed, and stumbled to my car. Now, I need to warn you...if it's your first massage, get dropped off and get picked up. Driving equals no fun after a massage. You just want to keep drifting in and out of that place you've just come from. That little island free of worry, stress, or pain.
As X directed, I drank plenty of water aferwards. The massage releases body toxins that are best flushed with copious amount of water. And those copious amounts of water release excessive amounts of urine that are best flushed at the urinal, or closest tree.
I slept better that night. Most likely partially because of the bodily relaxation, and partially the mental relaxation.
The next day I expected to feel completely rejuvenated. I did feel must more rested, and much more relaxed, but I wasn't as energized as I hoped. I thought I would leap out of bed like the the Lucky Charms Leprechaun leaps across his rainbow. But no, I didn't want to get out of bed any more than I would on a normal morning.
However, as the day progressed, I did feel better. I felt less exhausted in the afternoon, and I felt myself sitting up straighter. I felt better. No better way to say it. I just felt better.
Just like we reward our exercise with an occasional sweet treat, or salty snack. Reward your hard work in the office, or at home, with an occasional retreat...like I said, an oily rubdown.
Contact Fit2You Fitness for an in-home or on site massage therapy session, or even if you'd like to travel to your therapist...we can do that to.
As you know, Fit2You Fitness also provides Philadelphia and the Main Line with fitness and wellness services (massage, yoga, pilates, career counseling, and psychological counseling) anywher you like. We can come to you or you can come to us.
--BA
Fit2You Fitness, LLC
www.fit2youfitness.com
Monday, October 20, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
My Ultimate Cheat Day
As you all know by now I forcefully advocate the reward system: Work hard, eat clean, reward well. Read a few posts back and you'll see my discussion of the "mortal sin" in Florida. Today, as promised, I'm going to share with you...in all it's gory, horrific truth...my ultimate cheat day.
I look forward to thanksgiving for one reason; broken into many sub-reasons. Thanksgiving is the day I work all year for. It's my favorite day of the year. In fact, I love thanksgiving so much I'm going to reiterate that thanksgiving is my favorite day of the year. And I don't mean that like "Chocolate ice cream if my favorite ice cream". I mean it like this is the one day of the year before which I have trouble sleeping, after which I'm so sad I have another 365 days to go it virtually sends me into a homicidal tizzy. I look forward to this one day all year, even more so the week of. My teeth tingle with excitement, butterflies nest deep inside my belly, my mind is so worthless, so distracted, I'm of little more use than a dead tree stump.
It all begins at breakfast (which as you also know is my favorite meal). I start with french toast, a short stack, and an egg and cheese bagel. If I still have room (ha, "if"...let's be serious, I'm just warming up) I order a couple sides of bacon because everything tastes better with bacon. Top it off with some juice and coffee and you have the makings of a pig, slowly entering the slop.
Next, I make my way to the supermarket. Here, I stock up on my permanent-thanksgiving accessories: Cheetos (the crunch kind, not that puff garbage), a few cans of E-Z Cheese, a box of club crackers, and a bag or two of oreos. Now we're off to the races.
By now, it's about 10a and we're on the road to my parents house. I liken myself to Homer Simpson when surround by bowls of chips, and dips, and football game goodies. I morph into a sugar driven, fat seeking, cheese grubbing tazmanian devil. I can't get enough.
Around noon, it's time for a quick stop off for a few slices of pizza. Perhaps a sausage, a pepperoni, and one meat-lovers...perhaps. Back on the road again, and I'm tearing through more crunchy, powdered cheese goodness, scarfing through the creamy inside of another O-R-E-O, charging through another sleeve of crackers covered in processed cheese spread. (As an aside: This is maybe the hardest blog I've ever written...I'm serious. Thank goodness thanksgiving really isn't too far away. If I were writing this in December, I would seriously need some sort of tranquilizer to bring me down.)
I'm sure at this point you're all wondering if I feel bloated, and greasy, dirty and disgusting. And yes, I do...very much so. But it's so good, it's just so good...I can't say that enough...it's all just so good.
Upon our arrival in my hometown comes a stop off at Neat-O-Burrito for a burrito, so enormous it's obscene. Pack that puppy with some chicken, guacamole, beans, rice, etc., etc., etc.,. I easily power through this little slice of heaven, and it's back to my accessory foods.
We have arrival at our destination. We climb out of the car, the cool air snaps me out of that food induced fugue state. As we enter the house we're struck by the warm smells of fresh baked breads, pumpkin pie, stuffing, mashed sweets, and turkey.
It's a couple hours until dinner, and I'll usually take a little break. Pack down the mass inside my belly with a few glasses of wine. The next few hours tend to dance by on the wings of an alcohol buzz, furthered aloft by the laughter and jokes.
Dinner time. Pass the turkey (leg for me), pass the stuffing, pass the potatoes, pass the greens, pass the gravy. Pass the turkey , pass the stuffing, pass the potatoes, pass the greens, pass the gravy. Pass the turkey, pass the stuffing, pass the potatoes, pass the greens, pass the gravy...and so it goes until its time for piece de resistance, the culmination of this day of gluttony, the cherry on the scoop...the pumpkin pie. A few slices my way, wash it down with a brownie or two, and a cup of coffee. With that, my ultimate cheat day comes to a close.
The following morning, of course, I'm back at the gym, I'm back on clean eating, and I'm usually back on the toilet paying the price for all that fat, sugar, and starch...but it's all worth it. Maybe not to you, maybe not to anyone else, but to me it's ALL worth it. One day of the year, everything is right with the world. I can lose myself in all the gluttonous indulgences I avoid, sometimes barely, all year long.
This is an extreme example, founded in compulsion. The point I hope to express is that everyone deserves a reward. I've said the same in dozens of other posts. Reward yourself. Just take notice of my reward day. Save for the occasional mortal sin, or slice of pizza, Thanksgiving is an aberration. An uber-reward for a year's worth of hard work. Maybe you'll follow this example and give yourself one day a year, so gluttonous, so full of indulgence, it's nearly criminal. Or maybe you'll choose to give yourself a slice of pizza every couple weeks, or an order of French Fries. Take this however you'd like; just don't slip down the slope and fall into a dangerous lifestyle.
So, like I said I forcefully advocate the reward system: Work hard, eat clean, reward well...VERY well.
I look forward to thanksgiving for one reason; broken into many sub-reasons. Thanksgiving is the day I work all year for. It's my favorite day of the year. In fact, I love thanksgiving so much I'm going to reiterate that thanksgiving is my favorite day of the year. And I don't mean that like "Chocolate ice cream if my favorite ice cream". I mean it like this is the one day of the year before which I have trouble sleeping, after which I'm so sad I have another 365 days to go it virtually sends me into a homicidal tizzy. I look forward to this one day all year, even more so the week of. My teeth tingle with excitement, butterflies nest deep inside my belly, my mind is so worthless, so distracted, I'm of little more use than a dead tree stump.
It all begins at breakfast (which as you also know is my favorite meal). I start with french toast, a short stack, and an egg and cheese bagel. If I still have room (ha, "if"...let's be serious, I'm just warming up) I order a couple sides of bacon because everything tastes better with bacon. Top it off with some juice and coffee and you have the makings of a pig, slowly entering the slop.
Next, I make my way to the supermarket. Here, I stock up on my permanent-thanksgiving accessories: Cheetos (the crunch kind, not that puff garbage), a few cans of E-Z Cheese, a box of club crackers, and a bag or two of oreos. Now we're off to the races.
By now, it's about 10a and we're on the road to my parents house. I liken myself to Homer Simpson when surround by bowls of chips, and dips, and football game goodies. I morph into a sugar driven, fat seeking, cheese grubbing tazmanian devil. I can't get enough.
Around noon, it's time for a quick stop off for a few slices of pizza. Perhaps a sausage, a pepperoni, and one meat-lovers...perhaps. Back on the road again, and I'm tearing through more crunchy, powdered cheese goodness, scarfing through the creamy inside of another O-R-E-O, charging through another sleeve of crackers covered in processed cheese spread. (As an aside: This is maybe the hardest blog I've ever written...I'm serious. Thank goodness thanksgiving really isn't too far away. If I were writing this in December, I would seriously need some sort of tranquilizer to bring me down.)
I'm sure at this point you're all wondering if I feel bloated, and greasy, dirty and disgusting. And yes, I do...very much so. But it's so good, it's just so good...I can't say that enough...it's all just so good.
Upon our arrival in my hometown comes a stop off at Neat-O-Burrito for a burrito, so enormous it's obscene. Pack that puppy with some chicken, guacamole, beans, rice, etc., etc., etc.,. I easily power through this little slice of heaven, and it's back to my accessory foods.
We have arrival at our destination. We climb out of the car, the cool air snaps me out of that food induced fugue state. As we enter the house we're struck by the warm smells of fresh baked breads, pumpkin pie, stuffing, mashed sweets, and turkey.
It's a couple hours until dinner, and I'll usually take a little break. Pack down the mass inside my belly with a few glasses of wine. The next few hours tend to dance by on the wings of an alcohol buzz, furthered aloft by the laughter and jokes.
Dinner time. Pass the turkey (leg for me), pass the stuffing, pass the potatoes, pass the greens, pass the gravy. Pass the turkey , pass the stuffing, pass the potatoes, pass the greens, pass the gravy. Pass the turkey, pass the stuffing, pass the potatoes, pass the greens, pass the gravy...and so it goes until its time for piece de resistance, the culmination of this day of gluttony, the cherry on the scoop...the pumpkin pie. A few slices my way, wash it down with a brownie or two, and a cup of coffee. With that, my ultimate cheat day comes to a close.
The following morning, of course, I'm back at the gym, I'm back on clean eating, and I'm usually back on the toilet paying the price for all that fat, sugar, and starch...but it's all worth it. Maybe not to you, maybe not to anyone else, but to me it's ALL worth it. One day of the year, everything is right with the world. I can lose myself in all the gluttonous indulgences I avoid, sometimes barely, all year long.
This is an extreme example, founded in compulsion. The point I hope to express is that everyone deserves a reward. I've said the same in dozens of other posts. Reward yourself. Just take notice of my reward day. Save for the occasional mortal sin, or slice of pizza, Thanksgiving is an aberration. An uber-reward for a year's worth of hard work. Maybe you'll follow this example and give yourself one day a year, so gluttonous, so full of indulgence, it's nearly criminal. Or maybe you'll choose to give yourself a slice of pizza every couple weeks, or an order of French Fries. Take this however you'd like; just don't slip down the slope and fall into a dangerous lifestyle.
So, like I said I forcefully advocate the reward system: Work hard, eat clean, reward well...VERY well.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Break the fast...and break it right.
Breakfast...the most important meal of the day. Ignoring the hashed cliche, those are a few of the most important words in wellness.
When I first began formulating my thoughts for this particular article I came to a fork in the road. One sign said "Facts, science, boredom - East" the other said "Tell it like it is - West". So, metaphorically speaking, there I stood, hemming, hawing...WESTWARD HO!
I love breakfast. Not only do I love the act of eating breakfast every morning, I love breakfast foods. Perhaps because I'm the generation who can eat cereal three meals a day, or perhaps because virtually every breakfast is instantly improved with a side of bacon...whatever it is, I love breakfast. I'm going to say this again, so all of you ot there understand what I'm trying to say...I love breakfast.
Maybe my obsessive, border-line infatuation, with breakfast makes it easier for me to eat it...but I wasn't always this way. No no no, there was a time that I skipped breakfast -- often because I the time I awoke was far too late in the day to call any meal I was having "breakfast"...more like lunch, more often "LiNner". Those times are back in the proverbial "day"; now, not only do I eat breakfast...I can't wait to eat breakfast.
A few nights out of the week, my hungry stomach will growl my mind out of its slumber for no reason other than to ask "When food come?" (That's right, my stomach doesn't speak in grammatically proper sentences. If my stomach were a character, I imagine it a club toting, caveman; concerned only with its next meal and little else.) My mind responds calmly, in its glib british accent "Now now old chap, rest assured you're next feeding is imminent". (As with my stomach, I imagine my mind a monocle wearing, pipe smoking, Thurston Howel the Third-esque, type of character). And with those calming words, we all drift back to sleep.
I like to wake up at 6a. I've reconciled my rational self with my obsessive self. If I plan to eat eight meals today, I need to start at 6. If I don't I end up cramming food in too close together (temporally speaking) or I'm eating until 10p.
Morning arrives. I'd like to set the record straight: All things being equal, I'd prefer an IV meal of some sort to avoid having to leave the comfort of my pillows, blankets, and newly installed feather mattress pad. But, since science has yet to deliver an easy, home-based IV food delivery system for everyday use, I have to get up.
Oooo...do I love this next part. Well, first things first. I mix a quick protein shake - 25g of whey protein. I take my vitamins with this. Whey is a great source of sustained protein-energy (a little science won't kill you, or bore you too much). The foundation of my breakfast though is a cup of Kashi Hi-Protein cereal, half a cup of granola, and half a cup of all-bran. Kashi provides a healthy dose of carbohydrates and protein, the granola provides fat and almost an obscene amount of tasty goodness, and the all-bran...well the all-bran keeps the colon chugging along with the regularity of a swiss watch. Top it all off with a handful of blueberries (whose nutritional benefits are so vast I could write an entire article about them alone) and a cup of soy milk. Why soy milk? Milk irritates my stomach. So if I drink milk...people don't want to be around me for 2 - 4 hours. Take what you want from that breakfast menu, but be sure to take it to mean you should ALWAYS eat breakfast.
I don't confine myself to that breakfast either. I love eggs, scrambled, over-easy, hard-boiled. I love sausage, and bacon, and oatmeal. I love muffins, and pancakes, and french toast. I love bagels, and lox, and fruit. I love it all, but I don't eat it all.
You must eat breakfast, but be mindful of what you eat. Eggs are great, when they're not fried in butter. Oatmeal is great when it's made with water (not whole milk). Muffins are good when they're low sugar, high fiber. Sausage is good when it's low-fat turkey or soy (same for bacon) . Make smart choices when you make your own breakfast: Whole wheat toast, 0-calorie cooking spray not butter, portion control.
I'll never tell anyone to avoid any food forever; even fried foods. Read a few blogs back about rewarding yourself (Specifically Me and the Mortal Sin). Make the breakfast foods that are the worst for you (pancakes, french toast, eggs benedict) a SUPER-occasional reward for hard work and clean eating. I do -- next time, I'll tell you all about my mind-blowing, annual cheat day. It's the greatest day of the year.
So, like I said breakfast...the most important meal of the day. Ignoring the hashed cliche, those are a few of the most important words in wellness.
When I first began formulating my thoughts for this particular article I came to a fork in the road. One sign said "Facts, science, boredom - East" the other said "Tell it like it is - West". So, metaphorically speaking, there I stood, hemming, hawing...WESTWARD HO!
I love breakfast. Not only do I love the act of eating breakfast every morning, I love breakfast foods. Perhaps because I'm the generation who can eat cereal three meals a day, or perhaps because virtually every breakfast is instantly improved with a side of bacon...whatever it is, I love breakfast. I'm going to say this again, so all of you ot there understand what I'm trying to say...I love breakfast.
Maybe my obsessive, border-line infatuation, with breakfast makes it easier for me to eat it...but I wasn't always this way. No no no, there was a time that I skipped breakfast -- often because I the time I awoke was far too late in the day to call any meal I was having "breakfast"...more like lunch, more often "LiNner". Those times are back in the proverbial "day"; now, not only do I eat breakfast...I can't wait to eat breakfast.
A few nights out of the week, my hungry stomach will growl my mind out of its slumber for no reason other than to ask "When food come?" (That's right, my stomach doesn't speak in grammatically proper sentences. If my stomach were a character, I imagine it a club toting, caveman; concerned only with its next meal and little else.) My mind responds calmly, in its glib british accent "Now now old chap, rest assured you're next feeding is imminent". (As with my stomach, I imagine my mind a monocle wearing, pipe smoking, Thurston Howel the Third-esque, type of character). And with those calming words, we all drift back to sleep.
I like to wake up at 6a. I've reconciled my rational self with my obsessive self. If I plan to eat eight meals today, I need to start at 6. If I don't I end up cramming food in too close together (temporally speaking) or I'm eating until 10p.
Morning arrives. I'd like to set the record straight: All things being equal, I'd prefer an IV meal of some sort to avoid having to leave the comfort of my pillows, blankets, and newly installed feather mattress pad. But, since science has yet to deliver an easy, home-based IV food delivery system for everyday use, I have to get up.
Oooo...do I love this next part. Well, first things first. I mix a quick protein shake - 25g of whey protein. I take my vitamins with this. Whey is a great source of sustained protein-energy (a little science won't kill you, or bore you too much). The foundation of my breakfast though is a cup of Kashi Hi-Protein cereal, half a cup of granola, and half a cup of all-bran. Kashi provides a healthy dose of carbohydrates and protein, the granola provides fat and almost an obscene amount of tasty goodness, and the all-bran...well the all-bran keeps the colon chugging along with the regularity of a swiss watch. Top it all off with a handful of blueberries (whose nutritional benefits are so vast I could write an entire article about them alone) and a cup of soy milk. Why soy milk? Milk irritates my stomach. So if I drink milk...people don't want to be around me for 2 - 4 hours. Take what you want from that breakfast menu, but be sure to take it to mean you should ALWAYS eat breakfast.
I don't confine myself to that breakfast either. I love eggs, scrambled, over-easy, hard-boiled. I love sausage, and bacon, and oatmeal. I love muffins, and pancakes, and french toast. I love bagels, and lox, and fruit. I love it all, but I don't eat it all.
You must eat breakfast, but be mindful of what you eat. Eggs are great, when they're not fried in butter. Oatmeal is great when it's made with water (not whole milk). Muffins are good when they're low sugar, high fiber. Sausage is good when it's low-fat turkey or soy (same for bacon) . Make smart choices when you make your own breakfast: Whole wheat toast, 0-calorie cooking spray not butter, portion control.
I'll never tell anyone to avoid any food forever; even fried foods. Read a few blogs back about rewarding yourself (Specifically Me and the Mortal Sin). Make the breakfast foods that are the worst for you (pancakes, french toast, eggs benedict) a SUPER-occasional reward for hard work and clean eating. I do -- next time, I'll tell you all about my mind-blowing, annual cheat day. It's the greatest day of the year.
So, like I said breakfast...the most important meal of the day. Ignoring the hashed cliche, those are a few of the most important words in wellness.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Hard work deserves rest...
One week off every few months, your body is like your mind; give it a vacation. There's more to "rest" than simple sleep. There's more to rest than taking a day off every week. When you're pushing yourself hard, for long periods of time, you need real rest.
Imagine going 6 months without a mental break; working hard every day at a mentally demanding job. Your performance will certainly suffer, your motivation will certainly lower, your enjoyment will certainly diminish. Your body is no different.
That leads me to my most recent problem. I found myself sitting lazily on a weight bench during one particularly disjointed lower body workout. In retrospect I suppose I was meandering through that particular workout, maybe bored, maybe distracted, definitely irritated. I was uncomfortable.
For the few nights leading up to this day I found myself awakened by this dull discomfort in my legs. The pain wasn't terrible, but it was bad enough to work its way into my stomach. I had restless legs syndrome. My response? I called me doctor, and explained that the symptoms I was experiencing were exactly the same as those symptoms that GlaxoSmithKline discussed on their commercial for the restless leg syndrome drug. Based on the expert analysis of my self diagnosis coupled with the information Glaxo was telling me, I must need a prescription to take the edge off...right? So what if the drug may cause me to experience incontinence, loose bowels, erectile dysfunction, spotting periods, sudden blindness, loss of hearing, limb numbness, stroke, heart attack, diabetes, financial trouble, car trouble, loss of appetite, loss of friendships, loss of interest, loss of my 401K, frustration, exhaustion, fatigue, sleepiness, drowsiness, periods of intense energy, euphoria, depression, suicidal thoughts, toe-nail fungus, or sinus infection? I needed to take a drug for this didn't I?
Well, the answer is a resounding no (For our French friends: la réponse est non, For our German friends: Die Antwort ist nein, For our Spanish Friends: la respuesta es no, and lastly for our Russian friends: ответа нет -- I really want to get the point across, and I really like using "google translator"). I didn't need drugs, or treatment of any sort. I needed a day off, maybe even a week.
So what did I do? I took a week off. I finished the workout that day; albeit not well. I then started my week off.
I didn't run, I didn't lift, I didn't box, I didn't row, I didn't swim. The time I took off I spent going on walks, laying on the couch, catching up on recreational reading. In other words, I took a physical break...which in turn gave me the opportunity to take a mental break. A nice physical break, coupled with a nice mental break. It felt good.
A word of caution...you might find it difficult to get back to it. Doing nothing is SO much easier than doing something; only with much worse results. Make a deal between yourself and you. Every three or four months you'll take one week off. This doesn't meant eat garabage and forget about your health lifestyle. Still take the stairs, still walk instead of drive. Just skip the intensity of your training sessions for one week. I promise you'll return completely re-energized.
Like I said, one week off every few months, your body is like your mind; give it a vacation.
Imagine going 6 months without a mental break; working hard every day at a mentally demanding job. Your performance will certainly suffer, your motivation will certainly lower, your enjoyment will certainly diminish. Your body is no different.
That leads me to my most recent problem. I found myself sitting lazily on a weight bench during one particularly disjointed lower body workout. In retrospect I suppose I was meandering through that particular workout, maybe bored, maybe distracted, definitely irritated. I was uncomfortable.
For the few nights leading up to this day I found myself awakened by this dull discomfort in my legs. The pain wasn't terrible, but it was bad enough to work its way into my stomach. I had restless legs syndrome. My response? I called me doctor, and explained that the symptoms I was experiencing were exactly the same as those symptoms that GlaxoSmithKline discussed on their commercial for the restless leg syndrome drug. Based on the expert analysis of my self diagnosis coupled with the information Glaxo was telling me, I must need a prescription to take the edge off...right? So what if the drug may cause me to experience incontinence, loose bowels, erectile dysfunction, spotting periods, sudden blindness, loss of hearing, limb numbness, stroke, heart attack, diabetes, financial trouble, car trouble, loss of appetite, loss of friendships, loss of interest, loss of my 401K, frustration, exhaustion, fatigue, sleepiness, drowsiness, periods of intense energy, euphoria, depression, suicidal thoughts, toe-nail fungus, or sinus infection? I needed to take a drug for this didn't I?
Well, the answer is a resounding no (For our French friends: la réponse est non, For our German friends: Die Antwort ist nein, For our Spanish Friends: la respuesta es no, and lastly for our Russian friends: ответа нет -- I really want to get the point across, and I really like using "google translator"). I didn't need drugs, or treatment of any sort. I needed a day off, maybe even a week.
So what did I do? I took a week off. I finished the workout that day; albeit not well. I then started my week off.
I didn't run, I didn't lift, I didn't box, I didn't row, I didn't swim. The time I took off I spent going on walks, laying on the couch, catching up on recreational reading. In other words, I took a physical break...which in turn gave me the opportunity to take a mental break. A nice physical break, coupled with a nice mental break. It felt good.
A word of caution...you might find it difficult to get back to it. Doing nothing is SO much easier than doing something; only with much worse results. Make a deal between yourself and you. Every three or four months you'll take one week off. This doesn't meant eat garabage and forget about your health lifestyle. Still take the stairs, still walk instead of drive. Just skip the intensity of your training sessions for one week. I promise you'll return completely re-energized.
Like I said, one week off every few months, your body is like your mind; give it a vacation.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Boredom...
I was bored, I needed to find the excitement again. I hit plateaus every so often, boredom, lack of enthusiasm, lack of energy for the workout. It usually takes a week, maybe two before I realize that I'm not working my hardest, or I'm not looking forward to the workouts as much as I used to.
About a week ago I was in the middle of a workout, and I couldn't figure out what to do next. I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do, or looked forward to doing. I meanderedthrough the workout, moving slowly, not giving it my all..
It was when I left that I realized I had plateaued. Because of my work with Howard I don't get bored with my upper-body routines. It's usually a combination of Howard coming up with the routines, and having him there to talk with.
My clients who train all week with me rarely report boredom, it's the clients who only train with me part of the time who find boredom. It's with the routines they're doing on their own; without the benefit of the extra push from someone standing over them. It's this constant struggle to go one more, one heavier, one further, that erases any lack of interest. When your body is pushed to its physical limits, the mind has no room for disinterest. The mind needs to focus on the task at hand.
I had to re-double my efforts. It had been a long time since I attended an educational seminar and I knew it was time. I found one on plyometric and sprint training. The information was just enough to give me some ideas of how to better train myself, which in turn helps me better train my clients.
With the new knowledge, I hit the gym. I threw off convention and tackled a lower body workout of uber-high repetitions, jumps, and explosions. It was great. I hadn't done something like this in so long, I forgot just how physically demanding it is. My mind was so focused on keeping me focused, it didn't have time to wander. My mind couldn't drift to what happened yesterday, or what might happen tomorrow. My mind was too busy worrying about me to worry about anything else.
I went grocery shopping after that workout. It took a bit longer than usual...I had a hard time walking at any semblance of a decent clip. So I moseyed through the grocery story, happy to meander here rather than the gym.
Like I said...I was bored, I needed to find the excitement again.
Break your plateau, get excited again with Fit2You. Let us bring our in home personal fitness training and wellness services to you. Gain Energy, Gain Esteem, Save Gas, Save Time...
--BA
Fit2you Fitness, LLC
http://www.fit2youfitness.com
Philadelphia and Main Line Area in-home personal training, yoga, pilates, fitness and wellness.
About a week ago I was in the middle of a workout, and I couldn't figure out what to do next. I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do, or looked forward to doing. I meanderedthrough the workout, moving slowly, not giving it my all..
It was when I left that I realized I had plateaued. Because of my work with Howard I don't get bored with my upper-body routines. It's usually a combination of Howard coming up with the routines, and having him there to talk with.
My clients who train all week with me rarely report boredom, it's the clients who only train with me part of the time who find boredom. It's with the routines they're doing on their own; without the benefit of the extra push from someone standing over them. It's this constant struggle to go one more, one heavier, one further, that erases any lack of interest. When your body is pushed to its physical limits, the mind has no room for disinterest. The mind needs to focus on the task at hand.
I had to re-double my efforts. It had been a long time since I attended an educational seminar and I knew it was time. I found one on plyometric and sprint training. The information was just enough to give me some ideas of how to better train myself, which in turn helps me better train my clients.
With the new knowledge, I hit the gym. I threw off convention and tackled a lower body workout of uber-high repetitions, jumps, and explosions. It was great. I hadn't done something like this in so long, I forgot just how physically demanding it is. My mind was so focused on keeping me focused, it didn't have time to wander. My mind couldn't drift to what happened yesterday, or what might happen tomorrow. My mind was too busy worrying about me to worry about anything else.
I went grocery shopping after that workout. It took a bit longer than usual...I had a hard time walking at any semblance of a decent clip. So I moseyed through the grocery story, happy to meander here rather than the gym.
Like I said...I was bored, I needed to find the excitement again.
Break your plateau, get excited again with Fit2You. Let us bring our in home personal fitness training and wellness services to you. Gain Energy, Gain Esteem, Save Gas, Save Time...
--BA
Fit2you Fitness, LLC
http://www.
Philadelphia and Main Line Area in-home personal training, yoga, pilates, fitness and wellness.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Find victory...
It's not a fight...It's a battle.
There we are, our day is going great. We're chugging along, happy, content...and then we realize we still have 30 minutes or more of exercise ahead of us. Even those of us that LOVE exercise still realize it's work and hard work at that.
All summer, exercise fit into my schedule only in the evening. I would arrive at the gym each evening; possibly grumbling, possibly floating...all depends on the day. After a few minutes of glad-handing my buddies, and other regulars, I headed to the locker room to change into my gear.
Changing may be the key to proper mindset. I always change into a set of workout clothes different than my street clothes (bear in mind, I wear workout clothes for a living). This is like a code switch in my mind. It's time to focus, time to exercise, time to forget what came before this time, ignore what will come after this time.
Right now I want all of you envisioning a slow motion scene with a powerful score playing in the background. I dress, I lace up my shoes, I pull on last years Hanuka gift (a Nike wrist-band watch, that does a better job of looking cool than it does telling time). My fingers run through my hair, I stand up, a little bead of sweat forms on my brow as I step onto the fitness floor. Yeah, that's a nice image. But in reality, it's how I feel. I feel like I'm suiting up for a battle.
This battle is not against another person, it's against the intangible, the invisible. This battle is between me, and myself. Can I push it harder, can I go further, can I do more? Every workout is an adrenaline fueled battle royale (that's right, battle royale), but it's not a fight.
Don't view your exercise as a fight. A battle is glamorous and graceful. A fight is dirty and low-brow. You're journey in creating that perfect you, whatever perfect is, is a glamorous and graceful battle.
Once your dressed for battle, the actual battle tends to smear hazily by. In what might seem like the flutter of a humming-birds wings, you'll be out the door. You'll might feel satisfied. You'll might feel defeated, vanquished...but ultimately, no matter how you feel...you ARE victorious. Every workout completed, every clean meal eaten, every step taken, every minute off the couch is a victory.
So, like I said...it's not a fight, it's a battle.
--BA
Fit2You Fitness, LLC
www.fit2youfitness.com
Philadelphia and Main-Line In Home Personal Training, Yoga, Nutrition and Corporate Health and Wellness
There we are, our day is going great. We're chugging along, happy, content...and then we realize we still have 30 minutes or more of exercise ahead of us. Even those of us that LOVE exercise still realize it's work and hard work at that.
All summer, exercise fit into my schedule only in the evening. I would arrive at the gym each evening; possibly grumbling, possibly floating...all depends on the day. After a few minutes of glad-handing my buddies, and other regulars, I headed to the locker room to change into my gear.
Changing may be the key to proper mindset. I always change into a set of workout clothes different than my street clothes (bear in mind, I wear workout clothes for a living). This is like a code switch in my mind. It's time to focus, time to exercise, time to forget what came before this time, ignore what will come after this time.
Right now I want all of you envisioning a slow motion scene with a powerful score playing in the background. I dress, I lace up my shoes, I pull on last years Hanuka gift (a Nike wrist-band watch, that does a better job of looking cool than it does telling time). My fingers run through my hair, I stand up, a little bead of sweat forms on my brow as I step onto the fitness floor. Yeah, that's a nice image. But in reality, it's how I feel. I feel like I'm suiting up for a battle.
This battle is not against another person, it's against the intangible, the invisible. This battle is between me, and myself. Can I push it harder, can I go further, can I do more? Every workout is an adrenaline fueled battle royale (that's right, battle royale), but it's not a fight.
Don't view your exercise as a fight. A battle is glamorous and graceful. A fight is dirty and low-brow. You're journey in creating that perfect you, whatever perfect is, is a glamorous and graceful battle.
Once your dressed for battle, the actual battle tends to smear hazily by. In what might seem like the flutter of a humming-birds wings, you'll be out the door. You'll might feel satisfied. You'll might feel defeated, vanquished...but ultimately, no matter how you feel...you ARE victorious. Every workout completed, every clean meal eaten, every step taken, every minute off the couch is a victory.
So, like I said...it's not a fight, it's a battle.
--BA
Fit2You Fitness, LLC
www.fit2youfitness.com
Philadelphia and Main-Line In Home Personal Training, Yoga, Nutrition and Corporate Health and Wellness
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I'm back from vacation...
I'm back from vacation, it's a good thing...sort of. I don't think I ever really want to leave paradise. However, the day after I return, it's as if some magical spell has taken over me and I feel like I never left. So here I am, sighing heavily, but content in returning to the real world.
It's now time for me to let you all in on a bit of information. I work with a personal trainer, twice a week. His name is Howard, I call him H. He gives me two hours a week, two hours that I turn my mind off, two hours of him listening to me, two hours of my learning from him, two hours of torturous, heart-pounding, muscle aching, pleasure.
Clearly, H does not travel with me. So, during vacation, those workouts I would normally run on auto-pilot for I had to create, supervise, execute, and manage myself. Bummer. I realized I really take him for granted.
I'm in a unique position, being a trainer and having a trainer. I know what it is to push myself, I know what it is to eke out that extra rep, run that extra mile. But, I also know how easy it is to skip that extra rep, and go have coffee. On vacation, it was a constant battle between my mind screaming (as though coaxing me to give birth) "push, push, push" and my body saying "sleep, eat, relax, a bag of oreo's won't kill you..."
There I was, in the gym creating the workout for the day; cursing myself for not inviting H to join us for 10 days. You see, the challenge for me wasn't creating the workouts, nor was it really performing the workouts. The challenge for me was the fact that I lost those precious two hours. Even on vacation our minds run, at least mine does. I always have the company or my clients, or a business meeting in the back of my head. I fight to keep it in the back, the thought fights to come up front...and usually I relent and spend a half hour or so in front of the computer or on the phone. Losing those two hours where I actually got to turn my mind completely off made it hard for me to let myself really relax and decompress; which led to a lack of focus and a less than perfect workout. I was disappointed in myself.
Wow...talk about a lazy maze of a back-story designed to bring home one short point: We all need a trainer, just like we all need a vacation. I was gone 10 days, 240 hours, but I was only on vacation for 238 of them. During the course of a regular 240 hours, I'm only on vacation for 2 of them. But those 2 hours, those two hours that I turn my mind off, two hours of torturous, heart-pounding, muscle aching, breath-gasping pleasure, give me a break from myself. Something we all need.
I miss my vacation. 240 hours I was away and for 2 of those hours I wished I wasn't. So like I said I'm back from vacation, it's a good thing...sort of.
--BA
Fit2You Fitness, LLC
www.fit2youfitness.com
Philadelphia and Main-Line In Home Personal Training, Yoga, Nutrition and Corporate Health and Wellness
It's now time for me to let you all in on a bit of information. I work with a personal trainer, twice a week. His name is Howard, I call him H. He gives me two hours a week, two hours that I turn my mind off, two hours of him listening to me, two hours of my learning from him, two hours of torturous, heart-pounding, muscle aching, pleasure.
Clearly, H does not travel with me. So, during vacation, those workouts I would normally run on auto-pilot for I had to create, supervise, execute, and manage myself. Bummer. I realized I really take him for granted.
I'm in a unique position, being a trainer and having a trainer. I know what it is to push myself, I know what it is to eke out that extra rep, run that extra mile. But, I also know how easy it is to skip that extra rep, and go have coffee. On vacation, it was a constant battle between my mind screaming (as though coaxing me to give birth) "push, push, push" and my body saying "sleep, eat, relax, a bag of oreo's won't kill you..."
There I was, in the gym creating the workout for the day; cursing myself for not inviting H to join us for 10 days. You see, the challenge for me wasn't creating the workouts, nor was it really performing the workouts. The challenge for me was the fact that I lost those precious two hours. Even on vacation our minds run, at least mine does. I always have the company or my clients, or a business meeting in the back of my head. I fight to keep it in the back, the thought fights to come up front...and usually I relent and spend a half hour or so in front of the computer or on the phone. Losing those two hours where I actually got to turn my mind completely off made it hard for me to let myself really relax and decompress; which led to a lack of focus and a less than perfect workout. I was disappointed in myself.
Wow...talk about a lazy maze of a back-story designed to bring home one short point: We all need a trainer, just like we all need a vacation. I was gone 10 days, 240 hours, but I was only on vacation for 238 of them. During the course of a regular 240 hours, I'm only on vacation for 2 of them. But those 2 hours, those two hours that I turn my mind off, two hours of torturous, heart-pounding, muscle aching, breath-gasping pleasure, give me a break from myself. Something we all need.
I miss my vacation. 240 hours I was away and for 2 of those hours I wished I wasn't. So like I said I'm back from vacation, it's a good thing...sort of.
--BA
Fit2You Fitness, LLC
www.fit2youfitness.com
Philadelphia and Main-Line In Home Personal Training, Yoga, Nutrition and Corporate Health and Wellness
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