Food to Grow On

Fitness starts with good nutrition, the foundation for a healthy body which gives us the energy to move and keep well. Our choices in the supermarket are vastly different than they were fifty years ago, so why should we learn to prepare food, to "cook" as our parents did? Great cooking in that fashion leads to overindulgence in deliciousness, leading to obesity and disability; not to mention that it is an inefficient use of a person's time, and that person is more often a woman, whose time is not seen as valuable anyway. This has to change.

Parents are too busy or too uninformed to lead by example. Children need to learn how to make better food selections to nourish themselves, to avoid processed foods, to resist food as entertainment, and to share food around the globe and not just with family at the dinner table of each individual household. The economics of feeding a planet full of busy people is that we need to effectively mass-produce nutritious, ready-to-eat foods. Realizing economies of scale will make our meals less expensive.

For best results, we need to stop asking the food industry to entertain our palettes and find other ways to pamper ourselves. We want our kids to know better, to continue to demand that nutritious, natural foods are made available in every market around the world and not just to privileged communities.

The over-processing of actual plants into "food" with little to no nutritional value leads to even the wealthy becoming malnourished. The lack of nutritious food leads to poor brain development, psychological disabilities, and eventually to personal incompetence and political instability. The story is that Rome was brought down by toxic lead, a "new-and-improved" material that unfortunately made its way into the food chain, poisoning its residents. Our modern civilization could be brought down by malnutrition caused by the successful marketing of non-nutritious substitutes for real food.

Instead of studying flavors, dough stabilizers, and shelf-life enhancers, "food science" should concentrate on how to retain nutrients and get real food to everyone's table quickly. I don't want anyone's food choices to be a craps shoot: hoping for the best that what they are buying to put in their mouth will keep them alive and in good health.

CAE (Computer-Aided Exercise)

Where would I be right now, without my #Fitbit? On the couch, updating my blog. But without having already walked 9,718 steps today. #10000steps

I'm Back

It is never to late to begin again.

Never quit.

Never give up.

Too Sick To Exercise

I am hopeful that when the medicines kick in and kick the butt of this bug that has been making me miserable for a month, my desire for exercise will return with a vengeance.

Here

I am still here, thinking about exercise. I actually have been walking much more often lately, now that I have sole responsibility for taking care of the dog for the next two years. Oy. This, I don't need.

No Words

At the moment, I have nothing to say about me, personally, exercising.

I have just completed the production of a 250-page book of my original poetry.

A few of the poems were about exercise, and that's about as close to exercising as I am going to get today.

 

 

 

Winter Sloth

(haiku)

exercise calls me

"Let's play in the warm sunbeam!"

almost convincing

 

Who Are You?

What happens when you do a brutally honest review of your daily routine and finally admit to yourself in defeat, "I think I could probably be considered to be a . . . Couch Potato par excellence"?

Hurts, doesn't it?

Create the sort of life you would want for yourself, if you were writing yourself in, as a character in your latest book. A few words about a character's fitness routine help to define in the reader's mind a very specific picture of the character's physique and their physical abilities.

Are you really a Superhero in disguise?

Who are you, really?

You are, in part, a combination of all the stories you tell yourself about who you are. Make your body's health story especially important to you.

If your true identity is partially defined in your own mind by the phrase "early morning yoga," then make it happen. Get up early every day and do yoga! You can admire that character in the mirror, who sports a self-assured and confident smile.

"Yes. Early morning yoga. That's just how I roll." You turn to look at your naked back, reflected in the still-steamy bathroom mirror, and you notice the relaxed roll of the curve of your spine. You admire the smooth firmness of your shoulder, and enjoy the graceful ease with which your arm effortlessly extends overhead to touch the invisible stars in the bluest sky you've ever seen in your mind. You silently express your gratitude to the patient teacher who first introduced you to the joys of using your body to make pretzels and trees and other shapes which you never imagined you could stretch and bend yourself into, but somehow did anyway, once you accepted the loving encouragement of your exercise partner, the you inside you, who wanted you to succeed and become the best you that you ever could be. It was all hard work, but so, so worth it, and you'd do it all again if you had to.

I once read that the venerable "Mr. Rogers" of children's television fame had a practice of swimming for an hour, every single morning of his adult life.

I know that Mr. Roger's success story is inspiration enough for me. When I heard it, I immediately imagined myself, pushing myself to the limits my lungs could stand, hand over hand doing the crawl, racing an imaginary Mr. Rogers in the lane next to me, as I completed lap after lap, while looking forward to the camaraderie we would share in the locker room while we toweled off, Mr. Rogers and I, and then headed off our separate ways, him to the studio to perform yet another flawless episode of my favorite TV show, me to my own daily routine, which also included a fabulous and productive engagement with the others who shared my world.

Yet, I have never seemed to be able to find my way to the pool at the local YMCA at 5:30 in the morning, bathing suit and towel in hand, ready to join the other early-morning aquatics-minded fit-sters. Not even once. I have had no problem in getting there, in my mind. But somehow, the making of my body to do the specific motions, to behave in cooperation, to complete the steps I need to perform in order to fulfill this mission, has seemed to me to be nothing more than one more unaccomplishable goal; yet another brilliant and valiant quest, quite unconquerable, as would be a too-tall towering Everest in the middle of a winter blizzard.

I know the body of my alter-ego is a physical specimen ready and prepared to do real work, and not just to work out. It is always eager and able and looking for opportunities to help others:

• to move furniture for an elderly woman, who is down-sizing into a small, manageable apartment, from the three-bedroom colonial in which she and her recently-departed husband raised their three adorable and now grown and successful children, who now have children of their own, and who live on the other coast, too far away to assist their surviving parent in person,
• to babysit for a set of twin terrible-two's, to give the new and exhausted young parents some well-earned relief, so they can enjoy each other's company for a few moments or at least catch up on their sleep,
• to run a 5K for charity, simply because it is Saturday morning, and that is what I do every Saturday morning—I run—to make a difference in this world, while I still can.

So, why is it that I am still here on the couch? Not yet begun on the kind of journey on this planet on which I can embark only if I keep myself in good physical condition? Why?

Maybe I should write myself in, as a character, in a mystery novel.

Winter, the Gift of Exercise that Keeps on Giving

Today affords yet ONE MORE opportunity for exercise, by snow shoveling.

Growing Stronger

(haiku)

exercise daily

lift weights mornings and evenings

your weak fades away

Moderation

In trying to become fit, one of the hardest things to exercise is restraint in consumption of things that are best avoided.

Winter Work-out

I'm already missing the idea of snow shoveling as my favorite winter exercise.

Spring is only a month away.

exercise

(haiku)

I hate my treadmill
exercise works its magic
I love my treadmill

Winter Wonderland

As I approach the end of my sixth decade in this unkempt body, it is newly surprising to me how lovely it can be to walk outdoors in the February sunshine, no matter the ambient temperature, as long as the wind is not blowing. March is for flying kites and for hardy children with red-chapped cheeks. Calm February is for strolling, for adults with a renewed sense of purpose and determination to keep physically fit, especially we who have always eschewed the latest in home gym exercise equipment. We, who long ago gave away the treadmill in the basement because we already had a laundry rack on which to hang our drying clothes. We wanted to free up the floor space, to set up yet another set of shelves to keep handy rarely-used kitchen appliances, like the crepe-maker, which is only brought out once a year for the sole purpose of creating magic with Thanksgiving turkey dinner leftovers. Extra wine glasses with gold rims have a special spot downstairs. They are safely stored, and appear upstairs only when special company is expected.

The world outside is different somehow than it was when I was a child, now that I'm taking a clue from my dog, who enjoys any and every experience life has to offer, as long as it involves fresh air. My mother was doting and tender-skinned. No matter how comfortable I felt, she would always tell me to put on a sweater when the August evening air dipped below "steaming hot" and left her feeling "chilly."

It is now the dead of winter, and I am surprised that I am willingly submitting myself to below-zero temperatures. I am awash in the natural elements, here on the hiking trail, and I'm happy. My canine companion runs beside me in full stride, eager to explore whatever corner of the frozen earth I decide we will adventure together today. Snow and ice have become once more the ordinary playthings of creatures immersed in their home environment. I pull down an icicle from a white-blanketed tree. I scoop up a handful of instant ball-throwing target-practicing perfection, and toss it as far as I can. The fluff falls apart, showering the trail ahead of me with shimmers of crystals. They glimmer in the sun.

I am one with my cool world, oblivious to the cold.

I don't even notice that the atmosphere is frigid and unforgiving. I am blameless, and moving briskly, my hairy friend on his leash cheerily trotting beside me. My white breath-puffs march out before me, as those overhead of a coal-fired, steam-engine locomotive flying down the tracks. "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can..." It may be winter, but I am exercising, and it is fun.

When I was a younger person, I always bundled up carefully against the winter cold. I fought to spend as few minutes as possible away from my favorite reading nook, curled up by the fire. I endured my February hours reclined, a book propped up on my knees, my glasses balanced on my nose. I sipped cup after cup of hot black tea, fragrant and delicious, long-steeped and sweet-and-sour tangy, with lots of fresh-squeezed lemon and an overly-generous heaping of sugar. I pulled tight around me my heavyweight terrycloth bathrobe. I tucked my feet under, fearful lest a bit of cool air attack my bare ankles, which were left uncovered at the bottom of my flannel pajama pants. Aside from turning pages, the only time I moved was to get up and put more water on the stove, to refill the teapot, or to exchange the excitement of one finished classic novel for the next yet-to-be-explored treasure. I had a huge pile borrowed from the library. Exhausting the words of one favorite author, I would always discover yet another, and dive in headfirst.  My winter joys seemed limitless.

Using a Walker

(a haiku)

why did I not,

every day of my life,

walk an hour outdoors?

Helping Out Work-Out

It pays to help out your friends and relatives, when a free exercise workout is one of the fringe benefits.

Snow-shoveling, here in New Jersey. It seems it never ends.

 

Earning a Gold Star

Every evening before I fall asleep, I review my behaviors for the day, to assess whether or not I was successful in actually completing any activity I would label as physical exercise.

Through this process of assessment, I have come to the realization that I do wake every morning with the thought that I want to motivate myself to exercise, and I do begin working my exercise action plan even before I open my eyes.

This is a huge change for me, from last year to now. I am conscious of my exercise action plan, and I work it.

I am giving myself a gold star!

Only Heroes Exercise in February

This morning I did not even complete my usual "Body Awareness" exercise, of consciously trying to become aware of my muscles and slowly moving each one, which I normally do, to wake up and get circulation going before I get out of bed.

February has, thus far, been a terrible adventure in Extreme Inactivity. And we're only four days in.

The temperature is expected to remain below freezing for the foreseeable future, that is, on the weather app on my iPhone, as it extends out to look ten days ahead and give a computerized guess as to how cold it will be. After today's expected high of 36 degrees, on only one other of those ten days is the temperature expected to climb above freezing. All the way up to a balmy 34 degrees Fahrenheit.

As I sit writing, in my flannel pajamas, I realize that I will have to go out in that, that frigidness, and it would probably be helpful to be in excellent physical shape in order to deal with nature's elements. I have a Red Cross training tonight, which will leave me walking to my car in 30-degree weather, which I don't mind too awfully much as long as there is no wind, but tonight's class doesn't end until 10:30, which is long after they roll up the sidewalks here in this little town. As long as my car starts, I will be fine, but weather like this reminds me of all those who do not have reliable cars. I am then stirred to think of all the people in the world who do not have the wonderful conveniences and the easy life I do, and then I think of all the people who do not have the basic necessities. It is a short trip from there to all the starving children in China for whom I ate the last of the cold peas on my plate when I was seven, to appreciate what good things I had, when some people have nothing. February is a cruel month, and I am selfish and ungrateful not to exercise vigorously all the way through it.

Resolution

I want to spend more time exercising than I spend writing about exercising.

Maybe I should make that my New Year's Resolution.

Oh, wait...

Bust

7-Day Exercise Report

This past week has been more or less an exercise bust. An outing with my daughters in New York on the weekend, an occasional snowstorm to shovel, and the sporadic walking of the dog provided the bulk of my mileage.

The rest of my family takes turns taking Arliss out, and they go often enough that he can do all of his doggie business. So, I find that I need to coax him when I want to walk for fun, and he rarely cooperates. When it is cold and windy, that mini-me couch potato rarely deigns to step off the front porch, choosing instead to sniff the air, turn around, and beg to be let back in the house. Not one to question the superior canine intuition, I follow him in, and shortly we are once again ensconced in our respective favorite winter hibernation spots, curled up and comfy despite the raging snowstorms which, if not currently in our neighborhood, still could show up at any moment. We stay in.

Ok, let's stop blaming Arliss. I am the one that needs to exercise, and it is not my dog's responsibility to make sure I follow through.

I had fun shoveling snow this week. I had fun walking with the puppy, the few times he accommodated my desire to take a spin around the block and take in some fresh air. I had lots of fun walking around the city with my daughters, though we spent most of the day sitting, in restaurants and at the theater.

I did move a bit more this week than last. I did laundry and light housework. I went to the library, visited family, started to clean out a closet.

However, I mostly sat.

I made excuses. I wrote about exercise. I wrote about everything else under the sun. In one afternoon I read a whole book of poetry, on the subject of the dead and the undead, written by various famous authors, none of whom mentioned lack of exercise as the cause of the demise of their deceased. Some of the poets' subjects died of heartache, of loneliness. Emily Dickinson said she would not stop living to accommodate Death's need for her company, so Death had to stop what he was doing to come to her.

I see Dickinson's shadow when I look in my mirror—she's sitting in her parlor, writing poetry, thinking about how sitting around and writing poetry and otherwise not getting out much might possibly lead to an early grave.

In short, I spent the majority of my time this week engaged in a great deal of physical inactivity.

Why, you might ask?

To this, I say, "Don't judge me."

"Walk a mile in my moccasins."

"Stress. The other red meat." (Trying to be funny, here. Get it? "Pork. The other white meat." Red meat will kill you. Ha ha. Ha... Oh, forget it. Humor does not translate well in this venue.)

What could be so hard about exercising, that I have failed to meet my goal for this week?

You don't even know.

But for all of you who spent the same amount of time as I did, or more, passively captured in a state of inactivity, I want you to know that you are not alone in your struggles when you find it difficult to get motivated to get moving.

Hats off to you, for reading about motivation to exercise!

And, here's a toast, "To next week!"

It may look like next week promises to be more of the same, but next week is going to be in for a bit of a surprise. We are going to kick next week's butt, and make it answer the clarion call "To Exercise!"