Things That Are True - Random Despatches from a Friday Afternoon in March

Sweeps up. Takes out the trash. Vacuums up the spiderwebs.

Oh hi. It was getting a little dusty in here, thought I'd do some tidying up. I didn't expect you, please, come on in.  

Pulls the dust cover off a comfy chair. 

Here, make yourself comfortable. Now, what have I got that I can offer you to drink?

-----

Yeah, it's been a while. I don't know what happened. One day I was writing, then for many days I wasn't. No reason. There I sat, not writing. And the blog sat too, waiting patiently. I interpreted its longing looks as accusations, and kept my distance.

I know it makes no sense.

-----

I went for a walk today. A longish walk; about 5 kilometres. I walked in the sun and the wind, over concrete and asphalt and water, noticing things I wouldn't have seen had I been cycling, or on the bus, thinking only of my destination and how fast I could get there. I looked up, and around, and I saw an eagle making lazy circles over the Granville St bridge. I saw indisputable signs of spring: buds on branches, cherry trees in bloom, unapologetic tiny daffodils spreading cheer in small sidewalk gardens, and the promise of tulips.

I stretched out my senses, so long turned inward away from Vancouver's soul-destroying never-ending winter rain, and I felt grateful for many things.

This has been a gradual awakening, I'm realizing now, over the last several days. Last weekend I picked up the guitar I haven't played in months. This week I dug my camera out of hiding and put it in my everyday bag. I straightened out the mess on my desk. And finally, today, I put fingers to keyboard for more than 140 characters at a time.

I don't know why. Maybe it was the delicious light streaming in through my window this morning.

-----

Eyes the pile of clutter in the corner.

There's still work to be done here, but this feels like a good start.

Things That Are True - Fit by Forty: The Reckoning

I turned forty in August. I didn't write about it at the time, I was too busy doing it. It was a fabulous week, I received unexpected gifts from unexpected places, I got to connect with a bunch of friends I don't get to see often enough, and I reached my Fit by Forty goal.

Let me backtrack a bit. Back in March, I set myself a goal: it was time to stop procrastinating, to stop pretending (as we approached The Imp's 2nd birthday) that the expanding flab around my middle was just baby weight, to get it together to eat better and be more active. I set an arbitrary goal of losing a pound a week, which seemed rational. Realistic.

I wrote about it, both here and on twitter. I had some success, and learned a whole lot about what it takes to make me feel healthy.

I said I reached my Fit By Forty goal. That's not, strictly speaking, true. I lost 19 pounds, not 24. I started out at 149 pounds, and when I weighed myself the morning of my fortieth birthday, I was 130. So I didn't quite reach my goal.

Except I did.

The goal was Fit by Forty, not One Hundred and Twenty-Four Pounds by Forty. And I woke up on my fortieth birthday feeling healthier than I had in years. I was fitting into old clothing I hadn't been able to wear even before I got pregnant. I fit back into these jeans. And hills where I used to have to walk my bike were no longer even enough of a challenge for me to change gears. I could run across the playground with The Imp without hacking up half a lung or falling on my face. My fitness had improved by every measurable standard. And dammit, I lost 19 pounds. That's not nothing.

I don't have a before picture, but here's an after.

The last little while has involved a lot of emotional upheaval and weeks of physical illness and bad sleep. There's been a whole lot of comfort food eating going on. And as the weather has turned colder and rainier, I haven't been out on my bicycle at all. (Not so much the weather as the hacking cough that prevented exercise.) So I've gained 4 pounds in the last six weeks. I need to get back to the discipline and healthy eating I did all summer so that I can be not just Fit by Forty, but Fit at Forty. And beyond.

What do you do to keep fit when the weather makes you want to curl up with a good book and drink hot cocoa?

Things I've Learned - Fail Better

This morning I managed to stand up in the shower for ten whole minutes without needing to sit down. I've been so sick the last few days that everything but breathing has fallen by the wayside. There are any number of reasons I've been ill: The Imp's in daycare, a seething petri dish vector of disease if ever there was one; I've been taking on too much, running around trying to be all things to all people; but mostly I think I just had a little almost-breakdown in the last two weeks.

I've been thinking a lot of my past work in project management - there comes a time, on a troublesome project, when you just look at the patchwork that's been done to fix problems as they come up, and stop everything. Look at things from a new perspective, assess as objectively as you can, and then decide to tear the whole thing down and start over fresh. That's what the last two weeks have been like for me on an emotional level. And suffering through The Cold Virus of Doom That Will Not Die has slowed me down enough to really deal with some things for the first time.

A couple of weeks ago I connected some dots and gained some insights into the roots of problems I've struggled with all my life. Issues of fear, of giving up before I even try, of reacting with towering anger to minor setbacks. To an outside observer, what I'm going through doesn't look like much, but internally it has shaken me, rocked me to my core. I've had to rethink my approach to everything: relationships, business, and especially to parenting. Looking at patterns from my childhood and sifting out that which is good to pass on to The Imp, and finding a way to acknowledge and discard that which is not.

I don't have any pictures of me sick. So here's one of The Imp.

I think turning 40 has been a catalyst for much of this introspection. Realizing I don't care what people think anymore has opened the door, but it's events of the last couple of weeks that have really knocked me down and made me figure out how to pick myself up again. The revelation of the the source of so much of my anger has given me the freedom to consciously change the way I react when The Imp is acting up. A couple of mornings ago as we were cuddling before breakfast, I said to him, "Let's have a good day today. No hitting, no kicking, no scratching, no pinching. And no shouting. What do you think? Wouldn't that be great?" He looked at me and very seriously said, "And no naughty corner."

My heart: breaking.

"That's right. No naughty corner. Let's be gentle with each other today."

"Okay, Mommy."

And not for nothing, the last two days he hasn't hit me once. We've had two whole days without a trip to the naughty corner.

Despite me being so physically ill I could barely manage to bundle The Imp off to daycare in the morning, things have been better than I have any right to expect.

I'm not saying everything's magically all better now. I will struggle, I will fall down, I will fail utterly. But right now I'm feeling like the falling down won't be the calamitous, paralyzing thing it's been in the past.

Sometimes you really do need to stop what you're doing and tear it down. Rebuild from a stronger foundation, fail better next time.

And be gentle with each other.

I just hope next time it won't take getting the plague to make me see that.

Things That Are True - Ruminations Upon Turning Forty

Warning: cringe-inducing earnestness ahead. If you're looking for cynicism, click away. You'll not find it here.

My 40th birthday party - photo by HWSNBN

A month ago today, I turned 40.

I had a half a dozen half-written posts in my head at the time, which have grown to a dozen since. Things I've wanted to say: an update on my Fit by Forty mission, discussions of celebrations, birthday cake for the non-dairy set, clever quips about passing life's milestones, and some Significant Ponderings Upon Reaching Adulthood. It's taken a month for all of that to simmer on the back burner of my mental landscape and bubble over into this:

I'm 40. And I don't care anymore.


Let me clarify: this is not "I don't care anymore, nothing matters and what if it did." I have not been tsunami'd by a rogue wave of apathy. The exact opposite, in fact. I am as passionate, as engaged, and possibly more driven than I've ever been. This is "I know what I know, I love what I love, and I no longer give a damn what other people think."

This, friends and relations, is what freedom feels like.

This is a huge deal for someone like me. I have expended a lot of energy - enough kW hours to make a serious dent in the global energy crisis - being consumed with anxiety about not fitting in, worrying about what to wear, what to say, how to act. I have, more than once, allowed my fear to sink me into utter paralysis. I've not done things I desperately, achingly wanted to do - talk to that guy, write that song, go to that event, try that new scary thing - because of my fear of Getting It Wrong. Sheer will pushed me forward on occasion, but more often than not, I feigned aloofness and pretended what I really wanted didn't matter. I opted out.

No more.

An actual photo I took today just before the scribbling began

As I write this, I'm sitting in a cafe that is much cooler than I am. I put my pen down periodically (yes, I still write with pen and paper occasionally - I like the tactile nature of it) and dip in and out of the stream of conversation around me, capturing vignettes of people's public and private lives. I'm surrounded by 20-something hipsters. I admire their easy confidence, their languid coolness, their uninhibited friendships. And I wonder what I looked like at their age to a 40 year old woman sitting scribbling in a notebook nearby. Did I seem so easy and comfortable in my own skin? Or could she tell I was afraid of looking foolish every waking moment of every day? And are these beautiful younger-than-me men and women plagued by the angst (existential and otherwise) that plagued me at their age?

It feels sudden, this I-don't-give-a-damn liberation, but I'm sure, like everything else, that it's not that simple, that it's been creeping up on me far longer than I've been aware. It's just the introspection of watching a major milestone approach and go past that's made it front-and-centre.

I spent my twenties figuring out who I was in the wake of a disastrous and abusive relationship. What other people thought of me was always top of mind. In my thirties, I had a better poker face, but I was still consumed with how I appeared to others. The things that made me happy - designer clothes, extravagant vacations, expensive restaurants - were still tied up in how other people saw me. If I deconstructed every choice I made in the ten years between 27 and 37, what other people thought was the single most important factor every time.

Motherhood - ah motherhood: paradoxically crisis-of-confidence inducing and magnificently empowering all at once. While the mere act of living my life, examining my mistakes, and choosing better the next time has contributed to this new, giddy sense of freedom, it's motherhood that has triggered a quiet revolution in the way I look at the world. I've always been someone who had to know how to do something perfectly before I would even try it - as a result I didn't try a lot of new things. But becoming a parent isn't something I could know how to do before I actually did it. No matter how many books I read or friends I talk to, every person's experience of parenthood is different, and I can't do anything but figure it out as I go.

And Get It Wrong. Boy, do I get it wrong. I angst. I worry. I fret. It's a struggle, and a challenge, and a different game every day - which would have stopped me in my tracks ten years ago. Even five years ago.

But I keep doing it anyway. Aloofness isn't possible. Opting out simply isn't an option.

The getting it wrong and doing it anyway is a monumental change for me. Learning to be a parent has given me the permission to fail, and the courage to try to fail better next time. To just get over myself, to challenge my own assumptions, to reach out, to share my hopes and dreams in this space, and most importantly to believe that my hopes and dreams do matter. Pretty heady stuff.

Web cam photo taken right this minute

Hi. I'm Alexis.

My hair gets frizzy. My teeth are crooked. I make mistakes. I know what I know, I love what I love, and I stand up for what I believe in. I'm 40. And I don't give a damn.

Can I get a booyah?

Things I'm Doing - Fit By Forty: Week 3

If you're new here and want to know more about my Fit by Forty efforts, you can go here and here for some background and also check out Week 1 and Week 2. 

Week 3 - The New Normal

They say it takes three weeks to form new habits. They, the mysterious they that seem to be not only experts on everything that ever existed anywhere in the universe, but also have been behind every cabal, plot, scheme and conspiracy with new ones being hatched daily. They are very busy people. Whoever they are.

By the end of Week 3 I no longer had cravings for The Bad Food, unless I watched TV. (Because those ads for too-sweet, over-salted frankenfood will simultaneously repulse you and make you want to eat that crap Right! Now!) My body had grown more accustomed to the exercise; I felt stronger, I had more energy, I was (when The teething Imp would let me) sleeping better longer. We didn't have to buy the Costco-sized Advil container this week.

Eating
Portion control: what a negative way of phrasing it. The word "control" implies restriction, policing of food intake. Like "crowd control" it doesn't have any fun connotations. It also sounds far too clinical to describe the joyful act of eating. Food is such a primal thing. Feeding yourself, feeding your family is one of the greatest sensual experiences in life. And by sensual, I refer to "of the senses", not "in the bedroom". Although breakfast in bed has its joys too.

Rather than the dietician sounding, desensitized phrase "portion control" I prefer to make it simpler. I'm not measuring my food. I'm not counting calories or calculating grams of fat. I prefer to say I eat only when I'm hungry and I stop eating when I'm no longer hungry. I make healthy choices ninety percent of the time. I'm not depriving myself, after all, this was the week of The Awesome Chocolate Birthday Cake of Doom. And yes, I enjoyed a slice of it, without apology and without regret.

Side note: maybe "Without apology and without regret" is what should go on my non-tombstone bench memorial thing. Must tell HWSNBN.

Takeway:
Eating is enjoyable. It's family time as often as possible with HWSNBN's long hours. It's one of those most basic things in life that bring us happiness. I will not let a get-fit-lose-weight plan take the focus off the fun, the joy, or the chocolate. But not hoovering back everything The Imp leaves behind on his plate does help with the goal-achieving.

Exercise
More of the same, except better, faster, stronger. Made it up a couple of hills I'd been struggling with - when I shifted down into the granny gears on my bike, but still. Added more stair climbing this week to up the cardio challenge. But for the most part, my trusty bicycle remained my go-to exercise choice. I also was fortunate enough, this week, to meet and have dinner with the awe-inspiring four time winter Olympian Sharon Firth. Listening to her speak about the work she now does in the small communities of the Northwest Territories to inspire youth to achieve excellence was incredibly humbling, and made me even more determined to model healthy, active living for The Imp.

Takeaway:
Don't fix what ain't broken. I like the bicycle, the bicycle is easy to implement into my daily life. And The Imp likes the bicycle too. If it ever starts to feel stale, I'll find something else. Right now, it's exactly the right thing.


And now, for the numbers:
Starting weight: 149 lbs
Week 1 weight loss: 3.5 lbs
Week 2 weight loss: 3 lbs
Week 3 weight loss: 2 lbs
New weight: 140.5 lbs

Also, I need to find a trusty-steed type name for my bicycle. Any suggestions?

Things I'm Doing: Fit by Forty - Week 2

Week 2 - Settling Into a Routine

During Week 2, I started to get used to the new regime. I wasn't hungry all the time, and actually started to feel physically stronger already. After just a week, I was able to get further up hills before I had to hop off my bike. The muscles still ached, the ibuprofen was still regularly ingested, but things were noticeably improving.

Eating

My body started to adjust to the lower levels of food intake, and the healthier meals. I only felt hungry at regular meal times. For the record, I'm far from starving myself, I'm eating at least five times a day:  breakfast, mid-morning snack, lunch, mid-afternoon snack, and dinner.

As far as eating goes, I've realized I'm more or less following the Weight Watchers points system model. (I'm not actually following Weight Watchers, but after hearing a friend describe it I realized I'd sort of stumbled onto their model in my efforts to find a way of eating that made sense.) A good variety of foods, nothing forbidden, but an awareness of how much I eat each time affects my intake for the rest of the day's meals. I eat as much as I want of vegetables, eat some, but not as much fruit, try to get some protein at each meal, small servings of carbs like bread or pasta, and minimal fats and processed sugar. And drink lots of water.

Takeaway:
Portion control: not just buzzwords.

Like everything else that gets repeated ad nauseum in the lose-weight-get-fit canon, it actually works. I don't hesitate to put mayo on my sandwich. (Actually I hate mayo, I use Miracle Whip.) But it's a smaller sandwich than the giant servings you get in a restaurant. I put butter on my toast in the morning, but I only have one slice. Like almost all North Americans, I was eating far more than was necessary. When I cut my intake down to reasonable levels I very quickly started to feel a lot better, physically, and saw instant results in weight loss.

The Imp on one of our water-proofed outings

Exercise

Bicycling became more a part of daily life, especially when The Imp began to insist on it to get to daycare. One morning it was pouring down rain, and I thought, "Well, I'll show him how miserable it is to be out there in the rain." We bundled up into more or less water-proofness and headed out into it. The Imp, of course, loved it. And honestly, it wasn't as bad as I'd thought it might be. (Note to self: add fenders to wishlist. And by fenders, for once, I do not mean guitars.)  So there went any excuse not to get on my bike at least once a day. The return trip to daycare and back is just shy of 5kms. Looking for some exercise to do not in the rain,  I downloaded a yoga workout from iTunes and have added it to the mix. I have to say, The Imp, who imitates me as I work on my poses, has a far more vigorous yoga practice than I do, which somehow involves a lot more climbing on the coffee table.

Takeaway:
My decision to try and build exercise into my daily routine and not place it on some rarified pedestal requiring Time, and Money, and Commitment was the best choice I could have made. And using the bicycle more is the best way imaginable for me to do this.


And now, for the numbers:
Starting weight: 149 lbs
Week 1 weight loss: 3.5 lbs
Week 2 weight loss: 3 lbs
New weight: 142.5 lbs


Thanks so much for your comments, suggestions, and words of encouragement, both here and on twitter! I wanted to hold myself accountable, so I made this public. What I hadn't counted on was how much inspiration and motivation I would draw from your feedback. Thank you, thank you, thank you! (And the bicycling Imp thanks you too.)

Forgive Me, Readers, For I Have Sinned

It's been more than three months since my last blog post.

No excuse, but it's been a busy three months.

I learned my job had evaporated while I was on maternity leave, three days before my leave ended. So that was fun.

Then The Boy turned 1.

And a good time was had by all...

There was The Weaning, which made me simultaneously joyous and sad. The Boy didn't even notice. (That was the part that made me joyous. And sad.)

There was the beginning of daycare, which The Boy, now known as The Imp of the Perverse, absolutely loves. Which, you know, makes me both joyous. And sad.

There was the end of crawling and the beginning of walking. And the many bruises that accompany the severe listing to starboard inherent in that learning process.

And then, and then...

Then there was the "Hey, I should start my own business one day" which became "Hey there's an EI funded program that could help me start my own business" which morphed to "Hey the deadline for applying to that program is in a couple of weeks." What followed was along the lines of "Hey, I got an interview" and then "Wow, my application's been shortlisted & gone to an independent panel for review." Hard on the heels of that was "Wahoo, I've been accepted into the program!" which today, as I started the first day of ten weeks of classes, became "Hey, check me out, I'm an entrepreneur!"

Remember way back in the mists of history, when I said I'd work free for a clothing designer if money wasn't a concern? Well, I didn't win the lottery but I am working free for a designer.

Me.

I'm the designer. I know, crazy! I'm designing children's clothes, starting with a line of funky hats for boys.

The Imp of the Perverse models my first prototype

Today I registered my company name: Chill Monkeys Apparel. It's starting to become really real.

Oh shit. Now I have to actually DO this.