Thursday, September 25, 2014

My Top 5 Exercise Visualization Techniques


I'm going to take a hiatus from heavy topics and let the personal trainer in me get a little fresh air. Since I currently have no one on whom to exercise my sadism, I must fling my wisdom on the web and hope it sticks somewhere.


Below are my favorite visualization techniques for resistance exercise. I use these to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, to enhance the effectiveness of my workout, and to prevent injury. For example, I might mentally focus in on my glutes (butt muscles - best muscle group ever) to avoid over-taxing my knees in a squat exercise. I hope you find some of these helpful as you pump iron!

1. Gatorade Commercial
I've always fancied orange Gatorade was my favorite flavor, but in my commercial, the color inside me is gold.  
Let's say I'm performing a barbell bench press exercise. I imagine that liquid gold is illuminating my pectoral muscles whilst pressing some obscene amount of weight toward the ceiling. Just the act of "coloring" the primary muscle involved in the exercise will assist focus. In the chest press, it takes the exercise from simply bending and extending one's elbows to a focused movement for the pecs. 

 
2. Tension/Pull/"Energy"
The technique of imagining lines of tension or pull comes from my limited experience with ballet. I love the cues ballet instructors give students regarding "lines", and this has helped immensely with more complex exercises. But let's start with a simple move like the abdominal plank. You want to imagine lines of pull going right through your body forward through your forehead and backward out your heels. These cables pull you equally in both directions,"lengthening" your spine in a beautiful line. To add complexity, I "wrap" my midsection in a candy wrapper in 360 degrees, so that my core is wrapped up and lifted from all sides.

For a more complex movement like the squat, I keep my "energy" or "tension" in my feet, so that the emphasis is down toward the ground as I extend my hips and push to standing. If you want to get fancy, you can refer to the diagram (left) for proper squat angles. Notice the back and the shins are in near parallel lines (image source: http://www.edancescience.org/ref/nextlevel.htmlhttp://www.dotraining.co.uk/if-youre-going-to-squat-then-deep-squat/)
This is a great technique for solidifying technique in the learning phase of complex movements.



3. Animal
An accomplished, competitive power lifter and good friend of mine likes to imagine she is a small but powerful gorilla before she performs her lifts. This taps into the "animal brain" and lets a well-trained body do its thing during exercise. It also channels any adrenaline one might feel in a competitive setting, or when facing an intimidating, heavy lift.

My animal is the tiger. I love how they look so relaxed when they move, but you can see the power of their muscles rippling beneath the surface. I also like the fierceness of their eyes, even when they are at rest. I think of a tiger's powerful hindquarters when I perform the deadlift to give a boost to my set.

This technique plays more into emotions and can help enhance or channel adrenaline during heavy lifts. It is best to have thorough knowledge of correct technique, and ideally to have perfected an exercise before going into "animal mode".

4. Fitness Model
When I'm trying to get back into pre-pregnancy shape, I like to imagine my body as it will appear in the future. If I look at those dimples in my thighs or see my belly jiggling in the mirror, I'm likely to lose my mojo. Rather than admiring my postpartum bod in the gym mirror, I close my eyes (safety first! I usually close my eyes with Pilates or Yoga only!) and picture the body that will be. I AM that body underneath this fluff, and I am an artist chiseling away the excess until I reach that solid marble interior. Or something like that.

This technique also works on an emotional level to boost self-perception, halt negative self-talk, and exercise the imagination. It is a good idea to speak with a fitness professional about realistic goals as well. I know I'm never going to be capable of carrying the amount of muscle on my little frame that I would like, but I can do my personal best and take pride in the process.

5. Trigger Words
I use special phrases or words in tandem with other visualization techniques. The words should trigger a response in your body by improving mechanics or enhancing energy needed to complete a set. One of my faves for squat and deadlift is, "find your glutes!". This comes from a friendly and super-buff dude at a gym I used to frequent, who would kindly stop his workout to spot little ol' met. I always got stuck at the bottom of the squat, and having this giant yell, "FIND YOUR GLUTES" made me engage my body's most powerful muscle group and stand the heck back up!

Another favorite for squat and deadlift is "feet through the floor". I imagine pushing through my feet - not my heels or toes, but evenly through all points of my feet - so powerfully that the floor cracks under the pressure. This has helped me develop explosiveness with these tough-but-effective leg exercises. It also has a similar feel to "find your glutes" and takes focus off the knee joints and back, which are involved but NOT primary movers in these exercises.

Finally, my go-to phrase for doing a full squat (butt-to-heels squat) is "find your lats!". This refers to the lattisimus dorsi, or the back muscles running like ropes from your armpits, alongside your back, and into your hips. This is a posture reminder for me - it prevents my back bowing forward at the end of the squat, which really hurts my lumbar spine. "Find your lats!" also implies a slight contraction back and down to prevent excess rounding at the tailbone. Your back won't be perfectly upright at the end of the squat - nor should it be - but you will be engaging your core more effectively and protecting your knees and back in the process.

Next time I'll share my top ways to keep cardio exercise from being so painfully boring - hint: it's all about playing mind games!

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Is Over-The-Counter Birth Control in Our Future?

I recently heard about how some Republicans are trying to make nice with lady voters by claiming they support the availability of over-the-counter birth control. This also looks like a way to separate the controversy of birth control from insurance companies and employers, leaving the burden of cost entirely to the consumer. I'm not sure that I disagree with that.

Those of you who know me know that I am Catholic and do not use birth control for a multitude of reasons, which I won't wax eloquent upon in this post - well, I'll make an effort. I also pay out of pocket for a lot of my health expenses, like midwifery care, prenatal massage, and costs associated with using Natural Family Planning. I do not expect anyone to pick up my tab, though it would be pretty nice if they did ;)

Here are some thoughts and questions that popped into my head after hearing the over-the-counter birth control story on NPR:

1. Hormonal contraception is different from other over-the-counter drugs.

The mechanism of action of most pills, patches, and vaginal rings is to suppress the function of the reproductive system by introducing synthetic versions of the hormones estrogen and progestin in high levels, thereby tricking the body into believing it is pregnant and suppressing further ovulation. Most of the time. The secondary action is to thin the lining of the uterine wall, making it unlikely a fertilized egg (a unique human person) could implant even if conception occurred. This sounds a little more serious than getting Sudafed, yes? We are talking about altering the function of an entire bodily system, and as much as I am into minimal government and medical intervention in my life, I think a little counseling before acquiring access to this stuff might be a good idea. I mean, I can't even get new contact lenses until I've seen my eye doctor (and let me tell you, I think that is a conspiracy to squeeze out a copay).

2. In what way(s) would access be regulated?

Would it be regulated at all? Many feminists see any type of restriction or rule regarding birth control as warfare on women and a violation of privacy, so perhaps they would be indignant if they had to show an I.D. to purchase the pill. But why restrict the age of the buyer? After all, the pill is touted as being "medicinal" for real and imagined reasons, so why shouldn't a twelve year old girl be able to pick up her supply without mom in tow?

I know for a FACT that my 16 year old self would have jumped on the opportunity to purchase the pill without my parents' or doctors' knowledge. I also know that this path would have tempted me to make an impulsive decision without reading too much about the mechanism of action or side effects.  Maybe that's just me.

What about drug interactions? We know that hormonal contraception can interact with other drugs (see the list associated with Nuvaring here), and lessen their effectiveness among other things, but who is going to help guide these women through the myriad consequences of ingesting these hormones? As independent as I am, I think I might want some professional guidance with this stuff.

3. What other drugs might we see OTC as a result of this [hypothetical] decision?

The first thing I would demand is to be able to PLEASE replenish my stock of contact lenses without seeing the eye doctor every year, because the $70+ visit to Costco, plus $150+ in contact lenses never happens at a good time for me financially. Just let me get them online without a new prescription. I can see just fiiiiine.

Seriously, though - are we going to see Zoloft next to the Motrin, or Adderall alongside Tylenol Cold? This ain't candy, people! It is medicine that is used to help fix or heal a system that isn't functioning properly.

Oh wait, birth control doesn't fix something that's broken........





Monday, September 15, 2014

I'm Doing Everything Wrong

I'm doing everything wrong when it comes to parenting. And it is working for my boy and I.

Let me preface this by saying that I believe parenting styles are extremely personal things, and each mother-child unit is completely unique. I also believe that there are no strict doctrines regarding every situation one will encounter while raising kids, so if I claim to be an adherent of "Attachment Parenting", I can still make choices that fall outside that category if my instinct or logic (hopefully both!) dictate otherwise. I give this disclaimer because I don't wish to be misunderstood as criticizing mamas who don't do what I do. You have a unique, private, special relationship with each of your kids which cannot be replicated.

As I get ready to welcome baby boy #2 into our home, I have taken to perusing the pregnancy and "What to Expect" type books whenever my toddler and I hit up the bookstore. These are full of great information and amazing pictures showing how my little one is developing inside me. I enjoy sharing these pictures with my son, who usually smiles coyly and goes back to playing with the train set that is cleverly placed in Barnes and Noble next to all kinds of fascinating and expensive toys. Some of these books touch on the things I'll need to "train" my baby to do after he is born. Most of the suggestions make me giggle.

I really thought I was going to be the mom with rules and a clever schedule, since I'm notoriously A-type and choleric in every other aspect of life. Sleep training, spaced out feedings, and pacifiers were all part of the deal. So how did I go from thinking babies need to be "trained like puppies" - a statement that was bandied about by my husband and I during my pregnancy with the superiority of those with zero experience - to believing in my heart that my baby was equal to me in dignity and sometimes superior in intelligence?

It began with the crunchy indoctrination that I experienced taking natural childbirth classes. Allusions to attachment parenting and early bonding were made, wherein babies get fed on demand, sleep with their parents in the bed, and do all manner of other strange things. It sounded like a great way to lose a lot of sleep and raise a spoiled brat, so at first I wasn't on board. And then my baby came along and taught me otherwise.

When my son was born, he was immediately put on my belly and I called his name. He raised his head (strong neck!) and looked right at me. And that was it - I was his willing slave. I slept with him in the crook of my arm during the remaining 48 hours of my hospital stay, and there was no putting him into a crib after that. From the beginning, he wanted to nurse constantly, so I did because: 1) what the heck else did I have to do? and 2) it was easier than not nursing him. I let him fall asleep at the breast because, again, it was easy - AND it knocked me out, too! I have had trouble sleeping for many years, and the best sleep I've ever gotten came after having a baby.

What other weirdness have I indulged in? Let's see - I carried my son everywhere in my arms or in a soft carrier, and declined letting others hold him as much as politeness would allow. For about a year. I didn't have a desire to leave him and go out alone for "me time" (ok, I admit that has changed a bit, haha!), and I don't think my husband and I really went on a date until he was around 9 months old. I still like to hold him while he naps.

I continue to break rules. My son isn't potty trained yet, though he is making strides naturally, and I applaud his every effort to keep clean and be aware of his body. We still nurse, though the frequency has diminished (mixed feelings there). I may tandem nurse when the new baby arrives, depending on the vibes I get from my older son. He still sleeps in our bedroom, and I can't imagine a night without a little nursing or a few cuddles (or ninja kicks to the face). When he takes a fall or gets hurt, I run to him, usually shouting, "Oh my darling, are you alright? Can mommy kiss you?" instead of remaining aloof and saying, "you're okay, get up". He usually responds with a shrug and resumes playing, unless he's very badly hurt. I can't imagine falling on my face in a public place and not having someone show concern, even if it's just a scrape!

I don't make him share. Just because he arrived at the Lego table at some store does not mean the other kids have to relinquish their toys to him. We can take a walk and come back when they've had their fun, which teaches my son about delayed gratification. I don't expect him to give up his personal toys when we are at the pool or playground just because someone else wants to play. Sometimes an item will get snatched out of his hands and then I wait to see what he'll do, which is usually to pick up a different toy until the grabber drops the original item he desired. I don't share my things with strangers, so if I'm not modeling a behavior, why would I demand that he do so?

It's funny how these things don't seem "fringe" or "extreme" to me any longer. I just listened to my son, and he told me what he needed. He probably took a little longer than some babies to sleep through the night, or let me go out on a date, but I feel like I'm starting to reap some of the fruits of this relationship we've created. He certainly isn't impervious to age-appropriate behaviors like occasional tantrums and picky eating habits, but I feel like there is a lot of love, mutual respect and trust between us - and that's all I ever needed.

I don't know what I'll be doing with baby #2 in terms of sleep arrangements, nursing "schedule", or discipline yet. What I've learned is that no amount of planning will prepare me for the task of mothering this new, unique child, and I'm hoping to fret less and just listen to my baby.

Monday, September 8, 2014

A Love Letter to My Husband




Dear Husband Mine,

I have a terrible penchant for developing amnesia about our great relationship whenever a grievance arises. I’m sure this tendency is magnified by pregnancy hormones that sometimes leave me questioning my sanity, but there is never a time where I am truly out of control. I always have the ability to rein in my emotions, but I choose not to because I choose not to practice self-control and like to indulge in reopening wounds. But I love you more than these petty things, so I’m going to do better, with the grace of God.

It would be easy to create a Hallmark card listing the generalities of your stellar character (such as your  modesty, economy, and other…amiable qualities*), but in the heat of an angry moment,the hated amnesia hits. Thinking about how “great” you have always been is too abstract for me to grasp. I need something firm to hang on to when I am in the midst of an internal storm, lest I fall overboard and you come home to wife who is in pain and wet and hysterical*. So I am making a list of all the little kindnesses you showed me just this weekend, so I can reach out and grab them when another storm hits.

-          You brought home dinner at my request after you had worked a very long, tiring day Friday.
-          You made an amazing pasta dinner on Saturday, and I’m still enjoying leftovers!
-          You cleaned the kitchen until the laminate sparkled ;) and took out our notoriously foul trash.
-          You gave me time to talk a long walk in nature, take a nap, and later sip iced coffee while listening to snarky, hilarious weekend shows on NPR. Alone. Such a gift.
-          You listened to me talk about thoughts and feelings with patience and offered insight and wisdom.
-          You worked over the weekend, but managed to balance time at home with work so we didn’t feel deprived. This means you probably didn’t get much rest or relaxation for yourself!
-          You gave our son all the rough play he needed so my big ol’ pregnant self could have a break from head butting, body slams, and being treated like a jungle gym in general.
-          You let me sleep in on Sunday and go to a later Mass!
-          You stayed up late with me to clean on Sunday night so I could have an easy Monday. I doubt you are having an easy Monday with your workload.
-          You watched “Say Yes to the Dress” with me after we finished cleaning and together we made biting commentary about the state of bridal fashion.
-          There’s more, no doubt, that I’m already forgetting, but these sweet offerings to our marriage are not lost on me, and I will hug them tight whenever I experience frustration or doubt. Whenever I think I’ve got the heavier load to carry. Whenever I forget that this is a Sacrament and not a competition.

I love you so much and am very, very grateful that God called me to marriage with you. There’s no one I’d rather share my twisted brain with. And now the rest of the internet knows, and you have permanent written proof that can be used as evidence against me in a court of law :)

Lots of squishy cuddles,
            Your Wife

A note to readers who aren’t my husband:
I’ve read parenting-type magazines where a writer will actually advise a woman to neither thank nor acknowledge her husband’s contributions around the house, since he should be “doing these things anyway”,  and no one is handing out prizes to mothers who do what is necessary to keep the home clean and welcoming. I could take this attitude…..and live in constant bitterness, or I could be appreciative that my man, who works long hours at a tough job that is mentally and emotionally grueling, comes home with a smile on his face and basically takes care of anything I need him to do. A little alone time so I can exercise? Done. An I.O.U. on dinner because I was at the zoo all day with our son? No biggie. A listening ear when I talk about my struggles – before I’ve heard how his day went? Yep. All of these things deserve my thankfulness.

* Name the movies these lines are from and I will mentally shake hands with you. 


Thursday, September 4, 2014

Arrogance




I was looking at my old birth plan that I used for my now 2.5 year old, and I had to laugh. The thing is five pages long! To the credit of my sanity, the hospital staff only saw the first page; the others included packing lists for the hospital, unplanned home birth necessities, and Bradley Method labor relaxation techniques and tips. All tied nicely together with charming clip art images. I laugh – and I cry a little – because almost NOTHING went “to plan” with that birth.

My first pregnancy was timed with scientific accuracy on my NFP charts. There was a bit of smugness in “getting it right” on the first try, and a vindication of the method my husband and I had used to avoid – and now achieve – pregnancy. Such a stellar beginning could only result in a happy ending, right? Wrong. That little girl was made for heaven and left us when I was nearly six months pregnant. A powerful experience in so many ways, including a lesson in humility.

I had immediately become attracted to “natural” birth , which I felt was a simple extension of NFP. Why start treating my body like it’s diseased or helpless during pregnancy if I didn’t do it before by using chemical contraception? It was easy to pick up on the disdainful tone of many natural birth advocates toward women who “chose” medicated or surgical birth. As if we could get into these women’s minds and hearts and know the intricacies of their situations, the agonizing or split-second decisions they were faced with, and the amount of support they had from their community. So while I wasn’t vocal about my opinions, I certainly thought I had chosen the better.

When we learned that my daughter had died, we were swept up into a whirlwind of ultrasounds (I hadn’t had a single one before that time because they are UNNECESSARY and DANGEROUS), a hospital admission (hospital? WHAT?!), and an induction on Cytotek (won’t my uterus EXPLODE if they give me that?!?!). The surges, rushes, squeezing – I mean PAIN – brought me literally to my knees, begging for an epidural. Getting anesthesia was a capital crime, just below C-sections in my book, but I was humiliated, weak, and very sad and I could not have coped with the next few hours emotionally, physically, or spiritually without that blessed needle in my spine.

So I was wheeled to the entrance of the hospital – after hours to say goodbye to our girl before the funeral later that week – and was a new, humbler woman. I had experienced loss, medical interventions in a hospital, relief from an epidural – everything I never, ever wanted to touch but it was such a gift and very much what my arrogant self needed. I no longer did an internal eye roll every time a woman told me about how painful childbirth was, or how it was okay to seek relief.

Yet still the five page birth plan with my son. I decided to return to the hospital to “play it safe”, but between an induction (the necessity of which I consider dubious at best) on as many meds as I think a woman can be given in the course of 24 hours, near-continuous EFM, and a final capitulation to get an epidural, I pretty much blew the “plan”. Bradley Method classes were insightful and informative, but tend to set couples up to expect hostility in the hospital, and I wonder if my experience was colored by my returning arrogance. I know not every “crunchy” mom, midwife, or natural birth advocate has a wholly negative opinion of hospital births and the mothers who choose them, but I’ve found a pretty thinly veiled superiority in classes and online.

Anyway, that birth, though it resulted in a healthy baby, did a number on my conceptions regarding childbirth AND my body. I was wiped out for months and I don’t recall being completely free of pain and lingering depression for nearly a year. So much for my idea that depression is a crutch created by lazy people, easily fixed with exercise and sunshine. Another arrogant notion down the drain.

My third pregnancy ended up being a partial molar, which can be extremely dangerous. My baby (a girl, I’ve always felt) had no heart beat or brain activity at my first ultrasound around 12 weeks, but the nature of the pregnancy wasn’t discovered until I hemorrhaged after my first DNC in the hospital the next day. My husband watched me slip out of consciousness and was left alone without explanation as my bed was wheeled away a second time. I wanted to always be so strong for him, to be the one he leaned on – another blow to my ego.

I am left feeling very grateful for my return to health after each of these experiences, and because I’ve been so sick and experienced such an array of procedures and painful decisions, I feel I’ve gained a little empathy for women who “choose” a surgical birth versus letting the body naturally deliver a dead baby, something that may leave a woman with additional weeks of sorrow as people touch her belly and smile without knowing the secret. I feel kindred with women who “choose” an epidural because, instead of experiencing the effect of natural labor hormones, they are given powerful drugs to speed up and intensify the sensations to a pitch that may not be tolerable to everyone. It doesn’t feel like an empowering choice at the time – it sucks – but it certainly isn’t driven by selfishness, stupidity, or weakness.

So here I am at the 30 week mark of pregnancy #4 and I’m working with midwives. We hope to deliver in their birthing center, which is a comfy bedroom with an awesome Jacuzzi tub, warm colors, and soft lighting. There will be no epidural available to me. I don’t think it’s the perfect way for every low-risk woman to go, like I used to. I just figured out what I want for me and I’m not looking to evangelize my friends or family with my crunchy superiority. I’m mostly content and peaceful about this like I was with my first pregnancy, but now the arrogance has been [mostly] beat out of my stubborn body. I don’t know what will actually go down on “labor day”; maybe my body won’t know what to do since it has never been given the chance. Maybe I’ll go too far past my due date, or the baby will be breach, or some other wrench will get thrown in there. Whatever happens, I hope to avoid the level of lamentation and rage I fostered during my other experiences and be open to the blessings God will undoubtedly bestow this time, whether it’s on my “plan” or not.



Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Obsession



I was talking to my mom the other day about how I used to keep a meticulous food log in high school, in addition to running 5+ miles/day and weight lifting. I counted calories and grams consumed from each major macronutrient group (protein, carbs, fat) to make sure my ratios were in proportion. I even counted each stick of gum I chewed (5 calories per stick – still don’t know if that is for swallowed or discarded gum!). Can anyone say, “obsessed”? Here’s the best part – I’d never been overweight in my life, but the thought terrified me. I watched some of my friends enter puberty early and saw with horror their changing curves. I had an idea that everything should be flat, smooth, and without dimples. Funny, considering my mom was a competitive athlete with supple, beautiful muscles and a healthy attitude about eating and exercise. She did not practice fad diets or any kind of food deprivation. She didn’t denigrate her appearance in the mirror or even put much thought into hair and makeup. She was – and is – the picture of glowing health, inside and out. So what the heck was wrong with me? Perhaps an early body awareness, a judgmental attitude of others, a rebellious streak, and a need for control contributed? It certainly didn’t arise from unhealthy messages at home.

I remember having repetitive, pestering thoughts about food all day, reciting in my mind the calories and macronutrient content of different types of food I ate, calculating and recalculating my remaining calories I could permit myself that day. If I exceeded my self-imposed 2,300 calories (sounds like a lot, but for a growing kid exercising vigorously 2+ hours/day, it wasn’t enough), I’d punish myself with more exercise. I hated long excursions or vacations that took me away from my routine, and I would actually perspire with anxiety if a date took me to a burger place and made me eat something fatty. All I could think about was when I could get my running shoes on and purge the evil triglycerides from my system. I started reading “Oxygen” magazine and developed an appreciation for muscles, but was misguided by information about diet contained therein. The women featured in the magazine were fitness and figure models, who either cyclically or constantly dieted to remain extremely lean for competitions and photo shoots. I got little information about the food intake and exercise routines required to build muscle, and as a 96lb runner I was certainly barking up the wrong tree by taking what I read there to heart.

Shortly before all this began in real earnest, I started dating. My “over-protective” mother (by my peers’ standards) had made me wait until I was 16 before hitting this milestone, but in hindsight I wish my rules had been more restrictive. I allowed myself to get more and more intimately enmeshed with a guy until I didn’t recognize the “good, innocent, prudish” Catholic girl my friends all playfully teased. I realized that the quality of purity that had made me stand out was not a source of embarrassment after all, and suddenly I yearned to be like some of my strong, chaste friends. Virtue had taken on a new shine for me, but I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. Since I figured there was no getting it back, I used exercise and food to control my body as much as possible.

Somewhere along the line, I confided in my best friend (now husband) about what was going on with my boyfriend, and he recommended that I receive the sacrament of Confession with a priest that had been a good spiritual guide for him. I didn’t think of it until recently, but this may have been my turning point. I was trying to fix my issues with chastity by punishing my body and torturing my mind, but Confession allowed me to give my fears to Jesus and receive an appropriate penance. I cut off communication with the young man I had been dating entirely (though I pray for him every day, as I know I skewed his views on relationships at a very young age and I am somewhat culpable for him forever), and sometime thereafter improved my bodily health. It happened very suddenly; I saw myself undressed in a mirror at home (I was always examining myself in mirrors for flaws, but this was different somehow), and finally saw how gaunt and boyish my appearance was. I so admired the well-muscled curves of women in the magazines I devoured, yet for all my efforts I looked painfully lean and not at all feminine. Not to mention I had lost my period for around a year, suffered elevated resting heart rate, insomnia, and increased synovial fluid in my knees. These symptoms, combined with chronic knee pain, off-and-on soft tissue injuries, and general anxiety made me finally question if the path I followed was actually healthy. So I started doing research in scientific journals and looked into getting certified as a personal trainer. The more I learned, the more I craved good information, and the more I wanted to help others. During my time as a swim coach, I saw young people suffer overuse injuries from poor training protocols or technique, and as a track athlete, I watched our coach run us 8-10 miles daily without cross training or any nutritional advice. The thought of others being as delusional or ignorant as myself made me crazy, and I vowed to wield evidence-based scientific protocol with each person I met.

I ended up studying exercise science in college, and each year brought me insight and helped me tweak my training in the “smarter, not harder” direction. The obsessions of high school still linger in the back of my mind, a type of fitness scrupulosity that I think I’ll always carry with me. Fortunately, I have a loving husband who gives me perspective and has directed my interest in food to the kitchen, where he has taught me recipes and techniques that empower and intrigue me, rather than enslave me. I think I’m still obsessed, but now it is about quality ingredients, precise measurements, and getting a hot dinner on the table for my family.

Being pregnant (now for the fourth time) has given me a new appreciation for my body and made me responsible to people other than myself. I can’t exercise until I’m vomiting or bleeding internally, because there is a little one inside who is sharing my resources! And I can’t ruin the cartilage in my knees much more or else I won’t be able to enjoy squatting down to play with my babies. I’ve also learned that my husband doesn’t much care for the prepubescent, shredded look I used to sport, so I can give myself permission to hold onto a few “baby” pounds.

So when my personal training clients would exclaim that I was eating chocolate (not during our sessions…I don’t think), not running marathons, or not engaging in some other excessive behavior, I could share a little of my insight into practicing balance.

If you’ve had a similar journey, or are in the middle of some craziness yourself, I hope this is of some benefit! Prayer, a sense of humor, love, and good information has been of infinite value to me.