Things That Motivate Us

What motivates you? This is something I try to figure out about myself quite a bit. I even took a test that would tell me what "motivational type" I am, since procrastination seems to be my favorite pastime. I'll find the results of that later to share.

The answer came today in the form of a graduation party for my friend Tanya (pictured left, procrastinating with me last year -- or eating crabs, one of the two) and on the right in high school, before I discovered wine. Let's hope my preference in eyewear, bathing suits and reading material have improved with age. My decision to attend her graduation party was an easy one. Life is just too short to miss these events.

The party is in Maryland on May 23rd, where there will be yet another pool involved. You know what that means.....pool + drinking = potential spontaneous cannonball and that would lead up to the two most dreaded little words known to woman: Bathing Suit. Eek. Although the alternative, which is "no bathing suit," would be a lot worse, especially for party-goers. No sooner did I hit the "buy ticket" button on the Southwest website, did those two words fill my mind, and anxiety start to set in.

So now I have exactly five weeks to try to get into somewhat better shape so that I don't ruin any of her graduation pictures. No chance of that happening with my mother's camera, considering she mostly takes pictures of her fingers. However, like at most "monumental events" in a person's life, there will surely be photographs from all angles and in most angles at the moment, I have a double chin -- not more than a Chinese phone book, but at least one that needs to go, and heaven forbid if someone catches this porker in a bathing suit with a camera. Not in the world where Facebook has taken over.....No way - it cannot happen. More stress.

Now with motivation on my side (or panic as the case may be), I came back to the little townhouse home-away-from-home gym tonight after work and tried out something that we were discussing today in the office: interval training. I started out at a good trot of 4.5 mph on the treadmill for one minute, revved it up to 5.5 mph for two minutes after that, one minute of 6.0 mph followed and in the end, one minute of 7.0 (which is almost a sprint for me), then back down to 4.5 mph again to do the sequence all over again. When I got back to the 4.5 mph (and could breathe again), I took my heart rate and at one point it was up to 180 -- I'm surprised I didn't pass out and fly off the back of the treadmill. 35 minutes and 3.25 miles later -- talk about sweat. I might just be onto something. Tomorrow I might get a kettlebell, which could help ramp up the progress a little bit. I even toyed with the idea of doing the Master Cleanse again if I get really desperate. That's still in the back of my head, although drinking immediately after coming off of that detox might prove to be deadly. Plus, I still can't even think about maple syrup from the last time I attempted it.

New plan of attack - working out more, drinking less wine (if any), and in five weeks - hopefully will be 10 pounds down. This is going to be quite a challenge since I will be Chicago next week for a conference -- which usually consists of more eating and drinking than humanly possible. Will pack my running shoes, keep the big picture in mind and hope for the best.

Crazy Little Thing Called Mud

Sunday started out rather lazily - as Sundays should. Trying to get motivated and waiting for the coffee to give me a burst of caffeine induced energy that never came, I tried to plan something "active" for the day. According to my body bugg, I have to burn about 2200 calories per day and consume less than 1300 in order to reach my goal weight by May 31.  Rather difficult when you factor in that wine probably takes up half of my calorie allotment any given weekend day. That, and the fact that my fat cells are conspiring against me.

My fat cell conspiracy theory, however, is a whole nother story, so we'll stick to the day at hand. Since procrastination is my middle name, I did everything I could to avoid getting my butt in gear. I took the furry ones outside to run off some energy, and hit golf balls into the back 40 (lost about 10 of them). Finally when I couldn't think of another reason not to pack up my gear and head out, I decided to soak in the nicest Central Oregon day we've seen in a while and take Kooper for a hike. 

We ended up at the Deschutes River Trail with all good intentions of hiking to Dillon Falls - as the sign says, a mere 3.5 mile one-way hike.  That would burn those evil calories in no time. Heck, if I have enough of a deficit, it's justification of a post-hike glass of wine. That's motivation to keep on trudging.

We couldn't have ordered up a better day if we tried. The temperature was in the low 60's with nothing but blue skies and sunshine. My usual reluctant hiking companion was busy sniffing out the menagerie of smells left behind by other hikers and their dogs, and it seemed like a great hiking day was in the making.

Getting down the path a ways, we ran into the hazard of early Spring hiking: mud, and lots of it. Run-off from the melting snow created giant mud holes all along the trail. Add the vast number of people who also had the same brilliant idea that we did - to get out and enjoy the gorgeous day - and what you ended up with in the long run is a muddy mess. I knew I should have gotten those Gore-tex trail hikers at the Nike outlet when I had the chance.

Not to be deterred, we made our way to Benham Falls - .5 miles into the hike - where we decided we'd poke around a bit and check out the beautiful scenery that we're so fortunate to have practically in our back yard. Here we are, trying to get the whole timer thing right, unsuccessfully. The falls were the other direction -- we could hear them, just not see them at that point.

Despite the mud on the path, we (I say this as if Kooper has a choice in the matter) decided to trudge on to our intended target - Dillon Falls.  The further we went, the muddier it got. I should have packed those boots that clammers wear when they go out clam digging. Kooper sunk almost up to his chest (happily, I might add) at one point and that was it. I didn't need to try to pull a "Man vs. Wild" moment in order to save him from a giant muddy sink hole. In my mind, I could already read the headlines in the Bend Bulletin tomorrow -- "Local woman's fat cells conspiracy finally pays off - she sinks in giant mud hole (ass first) trying to save her dog -- Dog fine - Film at 11." 

A few more minutes down the path and no hope of solid ground in site - we had to turn back and make a break for it. My little pig dog, who loves the mud, was not pleased. He'd rather wallow in it, given the chance.

We made our way back to the car - both of us muddy messes, when I let Kooper get take his first plunge into the Deschutes River, which as a Labrador is his birth rite. As soon as his butt hit the water he turned into "wild dog" and was ready to swim down the river after a couple of unsuspecting ducks, almost pulling Mom (and all of my gadets) in with him. At least it washed off most of the mud.

All mud holes aside, hopefully this weather holds out and it's finally the beginning of Spring. I've said that before, only to be shocked by a number of freak snow storms after 60 degree days. Fingers crossed. Until then, we'll plan out all of our Spring and Summer hikes. Driving out of today's hiking spot, I noticed a lot of "trail" signs on the side of the road. There's a lot of ground to cover, apparently and we are up for the challenge. Our goal: South Sister Hike by September.

Favorite Running Accessories

After running for any length of time, you start to figure out little things that you think will make your runs a little more bearable. One of my biggest challenges is trying to keep my hair out of my face. I know this sounds rather trivial, but trust me, if you have a lot of hair then you know what I'm talking about. It's downright annoying. No matter what, my hair normally finds a way to wiggle its way out of any contraption I can find to try to keep it pulled back.

There's been a lot of trial and error in finding a device that doesn't slip down, come undone or, in the worst case scenario, fall off completely. I'm uncoordinated as it is - trying to readjust a headband while jogging proves to be quite a challenge on a moving treadmill (definite running hazard). A headband, I found, has been the best to keep the bangs at bay, but nothing I've stumbled upon seems to work with much success. Most are just way too thin to keep the mass quantity of hair I have where it's supposed to be.

So, a couple of weeks ago when I was out stimulating the economy single-handedly, I picked up a buff from REI that claimed to actually stay in place. There was a picture of rather active looking women with more hair than I have, frolicking around -- "in motion" with the buff firmly in place. I picked one up off the rack, and haven't looked back. Until tonight that is. 

On the treadmill, cruising along at a nice pace, I looked up (they are cruel enough to put a mirror wall in front of the cardio equipment), I caught a glimpse of myself and realized that I looked a lot that guy from Loverboy. Seriously, no one should go out of the house looking like that. I was surrounded by possible part-time neighbors. Embarrassing. I'm thinking we're sure to be evicted.

Finishing up my 5k, in record breaking time, by the way, I mosey'd back to my home away from home, feeling rather self conscience. A few minutes after settling down, I proceed to chat away with a friend who wants to log on to see any progress I've made via video -- he's tech savvy like that. No way, I say. Not while I'm still in my dorky doo-rag, not to mention sweaty. The only thing worse than the look of a rather wrongly situated buff is taking off the buff and having "buff head." This is not to be confused with butt-head, mind you. Either way, there is no glamour there what-so-ever.

So my new find is great for the task at hand - getting the hair out of my face. It is, however, bad for making a fashion statement, which really is what running is all about. No? My next run is scheduled for Friday when I will be a the Treehouse where over-alls are the fashion statement of choice. And since tomorrow is Thursday, and I am working up to my run on Friday -- consider me "working for the weekend." Oh come on, sing it - you know you want to.