Exercise finds its way into another hectic life
Editor's note: Jennifer Piurek is the arts writer in the Office of University Communications at IU Bloomington. In her blog, this busy mom shares with readers her motivation and feelings about turning to a personal trainer and exercise to reach her weight loss and fitness goals.
It's that time again: time for the morning weigh-in.
Muscle weighs more than fat, I mentally repeat as I step on the scale, eyes scrunched shut at first, opening slowly, peeking through hands to learn that . . . I've gained two pounds since yesterday?
This minor fluctuation wouldn't have been a problem over the past decade or so, when:
1. I didn't own a scale and I remained blissfully unaware of my weight.
2. My weight didn't matter -- my naturally fast metabolism made subjects like calories, weight and working out nearly irrelevant.
Like it or not, though, the bathroom scale is part of my new lifestyle, which also includes a weekly visit to a personal trainer, giant bottles of water, a Pilates mat, Wii Fit and significantly fewer servings of ice cream.
Exercise just hasn't made the short list of important life activities for the past few years. It's been all about being pregnant and nursing babies, taking care of kids, working, writing and finding time for my husband, family and friends. Somehow, when I wasn't paying attention, my fast-as-lightning metabolism took a turn toward the sluggish.
A few months ago, after my younger child turned 2, I realized it was time to take some sort of action if I ever wanted to fit into my pants again. I knew I wasn't fat, and overall, my eating habits are pretty good -- but I got winded climbing a flight of stairs and needed more energy to keep up with my kids.
One day, I asked the svelte manager of my favorite bagel shop her secret (she has two kids and is around my age, but unlike me, doesn't still look pregnant).
"I have a personal trainer," she told me. "And she's wonderful."
A part of me (the doughnut-craving segment of my brain?) resisted starting with the trainer. I even got (legitimately) sick before my first training session. I guess a part of me knew that once I was paying for sessions, I would want to change my habits accordingly, which would require a break from the sedentary lifestyle to which I'd become accustomed.
Then someone asked me if I was pregnant.
And so I began working out in earnest with Jill, nearly dying through the first few sessions (which she tailored to my personal goals) and in between, doing 25- to 30-minute Pilates DVDs in the workout space I created in my office, occasionally going to the gym to try and replicate my training sessions. For my birthday, I got a Nintendo Wii and Wii Fit.
That was about two months ago. The gym thing didn't stick (I couldn't bring myself to walk across campus in the middle of the work day in 90-degree, humid weather only to sweat some more), but the trainer, the office Pilates and the Wii have stuck.
Now, I spend most Monday evenings working out at the home of my personal trainer. While I sweat through my workout, which usually starts with about 20 minutes on the treadmill, followed by 40 minutes of arm, leg and stomach exercises that vary by the week (they usually include lunges, squats, arm exercises and some kind of situps), the kids play with my trainer's daughter in her massive, Disneyland-like basement.
Throughout the rest of the week, I try to take the stairs instead of the elevator at least some of the time and try to get in at least three half-hour to 45-minute Wii Fit sessions. I know now it's not happening every day, as I originally hoped, but I do try to do at least one Pilates session a week at work.
On my Wii balance board, I can do yoga; strength training exercises; old-school, '80s-style aerobics, which just feels right to me; and balance games, in which I become a penguin trying to catch fish, a champion skiier or a girl in a bubble trying to get to the rainbow without popping (I still haven't made it to that rainbow).
My Wii does have the unfortunate habit of telling me I'm slightly heavier than the last time I got on practically every time I work out, but I figure my new muscle must weigh a ton.
Now, as I prepare to depart for a three-week vacation, I hope I can keep up the workout routine that still hasn't quite become second nature -- yes, I'd rather be sitting on the couch eating peanut butter out of the jar than working out in almost every case.
I might bring the Wii on the trip, or at least pack my Pilates DVDs. It's 50-50 whether my scale will give me good news or bad when I return, but that will be the subject of my next update.
