First of all, you'll note that my "cycle count down" has changed. I've decided that I'm going to commit to this program for a year and so have shifted the countdown to support that. Just wanted to make sure that anyone who's been following this saga doesn't get confused: "Wait - I thought there were FOUR cycles on this diet; what's with the '365'?" OK, enough of that...onward.
Yesterday, I took the day off to do some errands but "the April Fools Day Nor'easter" derailed my plans. I wound up working from home. With the temptation of the scale calling from 4 rooms away, I also wound up weighing myself a day early. I forgot about the sensitivity of this particular scale (has to be in one spot - and never moved - to ensure accurate results....) and (gasp!) slid it a bit further from the wall before boarding. Down a pound.......one.........16 oz.........1 lb...........that's all. And here I'd been exercising all week, too (we'll get to that, I promise; it's in the title of this post, after all!). Drat. (OK - I might have said something stronger.) Didn't do my usual step off, step on to confirm. Recorded the weight, went back to the laptop, logged remotely into my bank PC and proceeded to spend the day working. In the evening, I did 40 minutes of Wii Tennis (it's coming...).
Got up this morning - normal weigh-in day. Drank the hot lemon-water. (Let's face it: it wouldn't be a blog entry from me if I didn't mention THAT particular evil!) Eyed the scale. It hadn't moved from its spot. Oh well, why not? Approached the temperamental beast. Boarded. Waited for the flashing trio of zeroes to disappear. New number. What?! No; that can't be right. Not in 24 hours' time. Stepped off. Stepped back on. Waited....waited.... Same number. Stepped off. Stepped back on. Three's the charm, after all. Zeroes....Zeroes.....SAME NUMBER! 27 day weight loss: 15 POUNDS!! Holy ... well, you know! Who knew exercise could contribute THAT much to a weight loss program?! (OK, OK - everyone but ME, apparently!) Actually, I'd heard rumors, but the only time you'd find the word "athlete" in a sentence with my name, it was usually, "I'd date an athlete - sure - if it wasn't for all that exercise!!" Struggling to get into a decent looking pair of jeans left me winded; surely that qualified as aerobic exercise! You get the picture. In my defense, I do have knee problems; always have. Of course, I didn't really want to admit that those particular joints might have benefited from a little less of me to lug around on a daily basis. You know what they say, "De-Nile ain't just a river in Egypt!!" So, I allowed my knees to bear the blame for my lack of exercise (along with everything else they were already bearing - poor things!) Oh - I tried walking .... once. That was before I quit smoking. Bad move. My best friend agreed to walk Baxter Boulevard with me (3 mile trek along a groomed trail around this lovely cove in Portland). This was...oh - 10 years ago. I put on fashionable leggings with a big sweatshirt, head band and brand new Reeboks. We parked the car in the lot. We started to walk. And I DO mean walk. Power walk. Pick them up, put them down. Look straight ahead. No sightseeing. No commenting on the flock of Canadian Geese congregating in the shallow water. No time to wrinkle our noses at the smell of baked beans wafting from the B & M Baked Bean plant in the distance. No time to admire how nice and sparkling white my new walking shoes looked. Two blocks in, my shins started to hurt. Three blocks in, I started feeling winded. At the end of the 4th block, I began to feel light-headed.I was pretty sure it wasn't the exhilaration that comes from an endorphin high. I now know that it was, primarily, an anxiety attack. I was a lumpy woman, approaching middle age, walking in a sea of trim and fit 20-somethings. To them, tapioca was a dessert found in restaurants. To me, it was the jiggly, dimpled part of my thighs. They walked/ran in pairs, chatting all the way, periodically pressing against the sides of their necks to check their heart rates. Any attempt at conversation from my friend was met with an odd sounding croak that was a cross between a gasp, a wheeze and a whine. If I'd lifted my hand to my throat, my subconscious would have inspired it to choke myself for even thinking this was a good idea. I returned to the car in defeat. Where was the woman who used to walk 10 city blocks from her home to her office - in 3 inch stiletto heels? How was I going to turn my tapioca thighs into thinner, trimmer limbs that actually stayed in one place when I walked?
That brings us to the Wii. Specifically Wii Tennis. Of course, in purchasing this miracle of modern technology, I was blinded (yet again) by packaging that featured happy, thin, smiling, thin, fashionably dressed, thin women exercising. I bought the Wii. This meant, after all, that I could exercise alone! With my shades drawn! With no trim 20 year-olds passing by and snickering. Game on! I (as always) ignored the little sentence about asking your doctor before beginning any exercise program. I could just imagine what ANY doctor might say to me - once s/he stopped laughing hysterically, of course! "Give it a shot, you've got to start somewhere!" seemed to be a logical comment. Everything in moderation, I thought as I set up the machine. I'll admit that I was a little disappointed that it didn't pose more of a challenge - that I didn't break out into a sweat. Somehow, it seemed like it should. I popped in the DVD "Wii Sport" and noted with interest that there was, indeed, a tennis game on the menu. Again, my memory failed to recall that tennis was how I wrecked my knees in the FIRST place! But...this wasn't "real" tennis, after all. Wrong. Maybe for some people, but not for me! For me, Wii Tennis is an all-out, no holds barred, full contact sport! When the screen flashes up saying that you should ensure that all obstacles are cleared from the surrounding area to prevent injury and/or damage to property, they are not just whistling Dixie!
I moved through the screens to begin my first game. I had to create a Mii (yes, I know; it's a little precious for me, too...but the exercise is the thing!). I flipped through the characters and found one that sort of looked like me. She was thinner but apparently Wii imitates life as well. I found where I could alter hair, lips, eyes and face shape. Sort of an aerobic Frankenstein project! I killed a 20 oz bottle of water selecting make-up, glasses, etc. (only 40 more ounces to go! This Wii was going to work out just fine!). Now that I had my Mii created and named, it was time to begin.
Did I want to play a one, three or five game match? I picked three. Right in the middle. Wait....doubles? Yes...there was my Mii - well, I guess I should say that there were my Miis, in the near court ... and may I say that they were both looking totally adorable, if slightly "weeble-like" in their coral-colored dresses, makeup and glasses! Across the net were our opponents: 2 thugs if I ever saw them. Two of the Bowery Boys, I was certain of it: buzz cuts, questionable attire and sneers etched into their pale little Wii faces. This couldn't be good. We set ourselves into position (OK, the CONSOLE programmers set us into position!) I was to serve first. Now, please understand that I have since seen 4 year-olds play Wii tennis while sitting on my couch and flicking their wrist as they gripped the controller. At this stage of my Wii tennis career, however, I held that controller like the Wilson T-2000 racket I'd used in high school. I lifted that thing and launched into a full serve that I was certain would knock the stripes right off Buzz Cut #1's shirt. He returned it. And he didn't just return it, mind you....he knocked Mii on my butt - temporarily. Miis have no legs, you see. They sort of rock, spin and slide around the court. Sort of like Tennis on Ice...without the annoying judges.
"LOVE - 15!" the Wii tennis announcer shouted as the Wii crowd settled down in the gallery. Gritting my teeth, I served again. Buzz Cut 2 returned to my backhand and I managed to volley it back, down the line on his forehand side. Buzz 1 - playing the net - waved his little racket and lobbed it back - just over the net. Mii 1 - who was supposedly playing the net - ran back and forth, slid around, waved her little racket - and we both watched the ball sail right by. Really? Are you/Mii actually playing up there or are you there for decoration alone? Two serves, one deuce and a lost game later, I realized that this was exactly net Mii's purpose: decoration. Grr! There's a reason little black thunder clouds appear over the little Wii players' heads when they lose a point: they're cursing at their team mates. Little music notes appear over the victors' heads. I think they're whistling the tune that goes to the lyric, "You guys are lo-sers! You are path-e-tic!" (But I'm not bitter! Not at all!)
New game. Buzz Cut 2 zinged his first serve so hard, he wiped out two elderly Wii spectators. They bounced right back, though. Wish I could say the same for my game. I lost all three. Spectacularly. Lost the next three, but less spectacularly. Won 2 of the next 5-set game (new opponents. Buzz Wiis were just too annoying to be dealt with!). At the end of an hour, my shoulder was killing me, my heart rate was up and I had managed to work up a sweat. Of course, both of my area rugs were dreadfully askew, my laptop table (on wheels) had moved four feet toward the window and my cats were huddled in one of the wing back chairs watching the whole tragedy play out. I put the living room right again, sent the Wii tennis players off to the little Wii showers and turned off the console. Heading for my own shower, I realized that I was no longer winded and my heart rate felt normal. Shoulder still painful, but it had gotten more of a workout than it had had in quite some time. The next morning, I woke up to find the muscle under my arm was a little swollen, my shoulder ached and my neck was a little tender. A-HA! A Wii-sports injury! I was a "W-athlete"....maybe!
Over the next few months, I built Wii into my routine and, most recently, as you know, I bought a Wii Fit Plus. This week, I began walking...again. With my friend Lori who lives in the apartment upstairs from mine. We walk two blocks in our neighborhood with her soon-to-be mother-in-law's (my friend, Pam) two Shelties. After returning "the boys" safely to their home, we go back out and walk in a very picturesque cemetery a couple of blocks from our house. (Remember, I'm a hypochondriac. I'm sure there's some psychology about choosing a cemetery for exercise, but there you have it!) I've worked up to "the second loop" and my goal is to conquer the full walk in the next few weeks. At the back of the cemetery, there is a beautiful view of Biddeford Pool (I believe) and the land leading to it - and surrounding it - becomes full of daffodils - for about a week each Spring. I've driven into the cemetery with my camera to photograph this beautiful landscape in Springs past. This year, however, I plan to walk down - camera around my neck. By July, when my family comes to visit, I want to accompany my sister on her daily walks - not stay home sipping coffee while she walks for 30 - 45 minutes. By the end of the summer, I'm going to pick up my best friend and drive to Baxter Boulevard. My long-term goal is to once again put myself in the midst of those 20-somethings who still pound the walking path. This time, any lightheadedness will definitely be due to the endorphins!
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