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Because...Living Longer Is Only Half The Battle!
By Susan Kuligowski
I never expected I would be the "Go team go!" health nut type, full of words of encouragement for others to put their best athletic shoe forward or consider not downing that last spicy chicken wing (gasp). I too have bought and then ignored perfectly friendly exercise equipment. I have moaned in disgust trying to fit into last year’s perfect fit. I have thought up a million reasons why I shouldn’t move from the comfort of my favorite chair. In actuality, I was more the type who had mom write excuse notes to get me out of gym class.
So what miraculous life-changing event has happened to inspire me to inspire you? Nothing earthshaking really. Just comments from friends who insists their lives are so busy that a half hour a day is too much a price to pay for a healthy body. Or that I don’t understand their dilemma because a) I don’t have kids at my feet, b) I don’t have a weight problem, or c) I am not them and never will be. Hmmm.
No, I have not gone from a size tent to a size one. Truthfully, I’ve kind of shuffled back and forth between a four and an eight since high school. I’d guess I’m somewhere around a five/six at the moment, but who can say for sure? I don’t own a scale and I tend to buy for comfort these days. I have not had plastic surgery or gone through some amazing life change, shaved my head, or decided to make an annoying exercise tape to spite an abusive ex-husband. I do not have dreams of every gracing the cover of Fitness Is Us.
I’m not what you’d call the perfect bill of health, either. I tend to pickup whatever cold germ happens to be floating around and my body creaks and groans a little more than it used to. I’ve got my weaknesses, including a love of everything food and a passion for everything leisure. I eat meat with a smile on my face and I have no problem shaming my friends who live on flowers and herbs into thinking there is something wrong with them. However, as I approach the nice round number of 3-0, I’ve come to the realization that Mother Nature is not planning to hand out magical additives and preservatives (only Hollywood-types get those) …And those childhood days of potato chips and ice cream? I’ll forever recall those wonder years, not in cute little photographs of me hugging a bag of Ruffles, but in the constant reminder that is now the fatty part of my inner thighs.
If there’s one thing I learned in high school, it is not to waste a minute of your life behind excuses that wouldn’t hold up in even the most lax court of law. And as I watch those I love growing up and old, I have seen first hand how a healthy attitude can make a world of difference in a person’s life and lifestyle.
I started to get serious about taking better care of
myself my freshman year of college. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of finally having
woken up from my high school nightmare. Or maybe it was that cute guy in the library…
Whatever the spark, I decided that a little physical activity might reduce the college
stress, while giving me that healthy glow…and more importantly, a flat stomach.
I began with your basic aerobic workouts and light weights at the local gym. It took me awhile to get used to the reality of surrounding myself with other women who also had decided it was time to work with their bodies rather than against them. You’d be surprised how inspired you become when you stand behind Ms. Super Athlete America for weeks on end, especially when Ms. is twice your age and in better shape than you. Eventually, I made my way from the back of the class to the front, kicking a little higher, breathing a little easier, and sweating a little less. Well, maybe not. But I could feel myself getting healthier by the day.
By the end of that first year…yes I said first YEAR (for everyone who buys a three-month gym membership and expects to see a difference…listen up…don’t waste your time or your money) I also could see myself getting healthier by the day. Places that had been squishy to the touch had become strangely firm. Dare I say muscles? Yes, I had become a hardbody. Well, okay, I was more in shape than I used to be. Two great benefits: I felt better. And yes, the cute guy in the library did notice.
I kept up this routine for the next few years, adding to it roller -balding, skiing, swimming, and tennis. It’s funny how one exercise leads to another. Before you know it, you start dreaming of which Olympic competition you might like to try out for. A good friend of mine, who just happens to be a great runner, talked me into doing a couple mini-races with her. I did them. I’m not sure how, but I did. Although I never came close to placing, I had a good time and they were for good causes. Plus, you got free yogurt and hotdogs at the finish.
During this whole time, I was probably at my physical best—early twenties, full of energy. Between work, school, the gym, going out dancing three or four nights a week, and eating little in between, there was nary a drop of fat on me. I’m not going to talk much about nutrition, basically because I don’t know too much about it. But, I do know that the more you exercise, the less likely you’ll be to blow all your hard work on junk food. It’s true.
Then came marriage. Ah marriage. A great institution, but deadly on the waste line, -er, waistline. I do believe the combination of first year jitters, combined with a Cosmo kind of need to try out all kinds of new romantic dishes with your new honey, makes heavyweights of us all.
The gym? Who needed the commitment and expensive of a gym—especially since I kept getting hit on by would be stalkers and price increases. I am still convinced I have a great big X on my back…
Food? Try finding a decent recipe that serves less than four? Well, hey, it was just the two of us and mom always taught me to finish my plate.
And finally, the baby consideration. If hubby and I decided to try for a baby, well, what sense was there in watching my weight?
Two years and mmph mmph pounds later, I realized that I had gone back to making excuses again, only now I was legal to write my own notes. Bottom line, the excuses were leaving me feeling a) tired and b) fatter. I wasn’t happy.
It took me a minute, er, a couple months, to regroup, but then it became clear again. Exercise, plus a healthier diet, equaled a more happy me. So, back to the gym I went, full of all the insecurity and worry that I had experienced the first time. Back to the rear of the class, relearning the moves, adjusting my breathing, watching my posture. Soon, I was feeling a little better and a little less tired. I found the stress in my life seemed less overwhelming. How could I have been so stupid?
Well, a couple relapses later, I was on a steady exercise routine again, and somehow, I had been talked into running a half marathon with my friend in Virginia Beach later that year. Don’t ask.
I worked out daily. I worked on every part of my body. Sometimes I went to the gym. Sometimes I walked the canal. Sometimes I used my dusty step climber at home. I was a little older and heavier than the freshman I had once been, but the intensity was still there. The desire to get in shape was just as strong…followed by the knee pain.
Sidelined again. This time I had to write an excuse note to freeze my gym membership. I handed it in with a painful shiver. I despised the note. Didn’t want to make any excuses. I didn’t have a choice.
Walking
Along The Canal
There are many theories as to how I developed the knee pain…a fall I took while hiking through a rainforest (for me, the most noble reason), not stretching, old age… For at least four months, my knee felt like a balloon, blowing up each time I tried anything physical. I popped pills to reduce the swelling, applied ice pads and heating pads, and went to physical therapy. I saw a specialist and had an MRI. Some odd HMO dollars and many HMO hours later, nobody knew nothing. But I was still in pain. I knew that much, and was saddened at the thought of my healthy life style heading south again. I had worked so hard to get back into shape, to prepare for the marathon…. MARATHON! Yikes! A part of me was suddenly angry. How could I possibly run 13 miles when it hurt to walk one? Well, I figured, at least I had a good excuse now to pull out. Or maybe not.
That’s when hit me. I had no choice but to do the marathon. It wasn’t that I wanted to punish myself. Rather, for the first time in my athletic life, I was going to push myself. That’s what separated the girls from the women, right? The winners from the losers? The couch potatoes from those who venture from the couch?
Somehow, I was going to run 13 miles. I just had no idea how.
My road to recovery was paved, for better or worse, a month later when I had no choice but to get back to the gym. My freeze had run out and there were, after all, weights to be lifted. If I couldn’t concentrate on high-intensity aerobic exercise, I could at least tone my upper body.
A trainer at the gym suggested I try an elliptical machine—a cross between a treadmill and a step climber, only with very low to no impact on the knees. It was a tough machine to get used to; challenging muscles that hadn’t been worked in months…or maybe ever. Day by day, I worked my way up and eventually over to the treadmill…to walk. For a couple months, I did a workout consisting of 15 minutes on the elliptical machine and 15 minutes walking on the treadmill, followed by 15 minutes of weight machines geared to strengthen the muscles that surrounded the sore area of my knee. Did I mention how helpful the trainers were? The theory was to build up other muscles and take away the pressure from the ones that had been damaged or overworked.
The routine started to work, or at least my mind fell for all my positive self-pep talks. Soon, my time on the elliptical machine doubled and the walking on the treadmill became the running on the treadmill. All it took was one sharp pain in the knee to remind me not to over do it. I still have bad days, but who doesn’t?
I stretched and worked out faithfully for the next couple months. Before I knew it, I was standing at the starting line of the VA half-marathon. My knees were shaking, but I’d paid my entrance fee and I’d decided I was going to do it, even if I wound up on my face by the side of the road.
Great Facilities!
Without doing a play by play, I completed the run in less than three hours. Ran the first seven miles straight and finished the rest in a half walk/run. I’m happy to say I crossed the finish in a full-out sprint, the announcer cheering my fellow runners and me on as we crossed. My friend (who had finished more than forty minutes before me) met me right before the finish and crossed again with me. In the picture that was taken at the finish line, I look like I’m about to hurl. In actuality, I was about to hurl, but damnit, I was still standing. I may not have been smiling on the outside, but I was jumping up and down on the inside, which might account for the urge to hurl, come to think of it…
Through the whole marathon experience, I had picked up a lot of great tips, not just dealing with running, but the over all concept of healthy exercise and good eating habits. The other runners I had passed or who passed me along the way also inspired me. There was the middle-aged guy who was chanting, "I did it," as we approached the final mile. I will never forget the look of sheer joy in his eyes. There was the heavy-set woman with a knee brace that ran the length of her leg, who kept up an amazing pace to the very end. Made my knee pain seem kind of silly. I wanted to reach out and pat her on the back, but was afraid to use any more energy than was absolutely necessary. There were many who wore tee shirts with the names of loved ones who had passed from cancer and other diseases, for which they were running/walking in memory of.
Right now, I’m in the process of training for the same marathon again. I plan to take at least 10 minutes off my time…or at the very least, try not to fall on my face.
So back to why I think everyone should try and stick to the most popular of all New Year’s resolutions… I don’t know if that saying about being as young as you feel is true or scientifically possible, although I bet some French scientist in a secret lab is humming away over test tubes and spreadsheets even as I type. However, until said scientist manages to package youth in a bottle, I won’t be taking any chances.
I’ve done some deep soul searching, too, and realized that it’s true, I can no longer eat like I did when I was 12, but that doesn’t mean I’ve cut out all the good stuff. You’ll find no low-fat twigs in our cupboards, however, we use common sense and when my stomach says stop…I do, clean plate or not. Sorry mom. I’ve also realized that a financial donation goes a lot further in third world countries than a pile of my soggy, half-eaten mashed potatoes.
I have recently added a Yoga-type stretching video to my workout, three times a week (that fat around the thighs has got to go). Sometimes, this workout takes the place of a run. No pain no gain is for the birds, a lesson I learned from working out without first stretching out. Being limber not only helps you to have a better work out, but also helps you to get through the day with fewer creaks and groans.
I’ve long since come to the conclusion that I will never be a super model. I’ve also come to the conclusion that I don’t want to be a super model…call me crazy. I like who I am. I like knowing that I have to work to stay in shape. I like to watch the results of my efforts. And I like the reaction of my beloved when he watches the results of my efforts.
Watching your health, rather than your weight, is a better way to look at the reasons for exercising and gauging how many hotdogs you decide to chow down. Nobody is perfect. I still have many days when a million reasons run through my mind on why I don’t have time to exercise. However, I go. And afterward, am happy that I went.
Why exercise if you have no plans to run a marathon or be a super model? I’m not going to go through all of the tests that show that exercise and a healthy diet improve your chances of avoiding fatal diseases and guaranteeing a more active "golden years". I’m not going to list the ways exercise reduces stress, improves your ability to think clearly, and helps to keep you regular. I’m not going to point out that the act of moving may reduce your guilt over eating that second delicious twisty roll at the Olive Garden. I’m also not going to point out how many doors will open to you once you make a move toward a healthier lifestyle. Truth is, it wasn’t the marathon that led me to exercise, but the exercise that eventually led me to think I could run a marathon. Of course, before making this move, it’s always a good idea to talk with your doctor or a personal trainer…make sure everything is in working order…and make sure you don’t choose exercises or eating habits that will do you more harm than good. The best thing is to listen to your body. You know it best. Don’t do things that hurt, but don’t be afraid to try new things. Different really can be good…and variety really is the spice of life.
Try not to think of exercises as a sentence, but as a present to yourself. Remember, there are many people out there who don’t have the physical choice to get up and go. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’ll be up to five miles by next week or that you’ll see the results of your hard work by next month. There is no pill, no shake, and no diet that will lose weight for you…or at least keep it off without taking off all your hair with it. You’ve got to move it to lose it. Simple as that. Like all good things, improving your health takes time…in this case, a lifetime. Don’t give up and I guarantee you’ll see and feel a difference.
No excuses!
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