Category — Mind

photo by jessi.bryan
Overeat? Who, me??

I have a lot of bad habits. I eat dessert every day. I sometimes skip workouts. And I always sleep too late. You know what? I’ll probably do some of those bad habits this weekend. I’ll sleep till 10 and wake with a headache. I’ll O.D. on brownies or cookies or Hershey’s kisses with the paper flag still attached because I’ve scarffed them down so fast. OK, maybe that last one was a lie or long stretch of my imagination.

Everyone has bad habits. In fact, every time a new study is published, we learn about bad habits we never knew we had. Canned goods have BPA—so if you eat ’em, add that to the list. I could go on. Sure, I feel guilty 80 percent of the time because I feel like I’m not doing enough—I’m not eating healthy enough; I’m not exercising long enough or hard enough or often enough.

Despite my faults, I do have a few a few good habits I’d like to pass along. I’m going to give you the five healthy habits that make the biggest difference in my life. I won’t talk about the whole eat healthy and exercise … yada, yada, yada. Pretend those take precedence, then move on. Thanks.

[Read more →]

photo by dmitry_morozov

Let’s discuss support. No, I’m not talking about the kind that comes from a sports bra; that’s an important yet completely irrelevant topic right now.

What I want to chat about is the support you get from your spouse. University of Iowa researchers recently published results of a couple studies on how partners support one another in tough times. They found that both partners are happier if wives ask for support when they need it and if husbands receive the right type of support.

Let me start by saying that although the researchers looked at married folks, I think the results are applicable to unmarried couples as well. The first trial gave five surveys to more than 100 couples during the first five years of marriage. At the end of the study, the researchers learned that getting more support than you need causes more marital problems than not being there for your spouse.

To be honest, that doesn’t really make sense to me. But Lawrence and colleagues suggest that women can make up for a good-for-nothin’ man lack of spousal support by leaning on friends and family. And maybe swigging a martini or two. Just a guess. But the study says there’s no way to make up for too much support. (However, the authors didn’t note where in the world one finds a man who provides too much support. Perhaps that’s for a follow-up investigation.)

[Read more →]

photo by hexodus…
Oh Mike Seaver…

I was a tween back in the wholesome ’80s. In those days, we got our morals from Dr. Cliff Huxtable, not Gossip Girl. And in those days, I loved the show Growing Pains. I always wanted to be Tracey Gold. I don’t think it had much to do with her character, the chubby overachiever Carol, though we do share the same Type A personality. Nope, it was because Tracey Gold had the same first name as me. (It’s rare I come across another Tracey, you know.) Not only that, but she spelled it with an e, not the wrong way: Tracy. Oh, and did I mention her last name started with a G? Just like my maiden name? So cool.

That pretty much sums up how kids pick their role models. There’s no science behind it. There’s no listening to a mother say so-and-so is a nice girl or a good, fine woman. Nope, it’s completely random, kind of like everything else a kid does. (As in: Why does a kid decide she suddenly hates red foods? There is no reason. She’s a kid. It probably sounded cool that day.)

photo by calmdownlove

The reason I’m thinking about Tracey Gold isn’t because she’s still my role model (hello, she was sloppy seconds once Kelly Kapowski came along). It’s because I was reading a post about today’s children and role models over at Psych Central. The author started worrying about the state of role models today: Miley Cyrus with shorts up to there. Pink prancing around practically naked. Lady Gaga being Lady Gaga. And Tiger Woods being … oh you know. I’m glad I’m not a parent. I think I’d go mad. And buy a lot of Selena Gomez stuff.

The article made me think…

[Read more →]

photo by food thinkers
Pumpkin seeds are high in magnesium

My mother is notorious for saying half sentences.

“Oh, I meant to ask you about that thing. The one that, um … um…”

Or: “I forgot to tell you! Oh, wait, my phone’s ringing. Hang on.” Yup, Mom, what did you want to tell me? “Hmm…I don’t know. Must not have been too important.”

I’m used to these half thoughts. So I was very excited to read about a supplement that boosts brain power.

You listening, Mom?

Anyhow, what was I talking about? Oh, right, how I loved Lost last night. And how I’m addicted to it all over again.

[Read more →]

photo by mochida1970
At least somebody enjoys the snow

This weekend, what with the impending snow storm, I gave up any ides of checking off items on my to-do list. Down in Virginia, even flurries are cause for alarm.

Being from Massachusetts, I always thought the mid-Atlantic’s fear of snow was silly until we were dumped on during the holidays. Too few plows cleared the pile of snow. No one seemed to understand the importance of sand and salt. And don’t get me started on how long it took the main roads to be drivable again.

Anyhow, all of that made me realize driving around Saturday during a snowstorm just wasn’t going to happen. We’ll have to wait yet another day to stock up on groceries. (Yep, I’m going on three weeks. It’s amazing what’s left to eat at my house.) Because I was snowed in, and because this week was more or less hellish, I decided to have a Me Time kind of weekend.

[Read more →]

photo by greekadman

Strangers are underrated. Hear me out.

Sure, they drive slow when you’re late for work, cut to the front of a long line when you’ve been waiting for 20 minutes, and forget to say thanks when you hold the door for them. (You know who you are.) But sometimes they surprise you.

The other day at the gym, I decided to try a new exercise I saw on ESPN.

(If you know me, you probably think I’m joking right now. I spend most of my time begging The Man to switch it to any other channel. But it was on, and the station was running some footage of an athlete—see, I don’t even know what sport he plays!—doing physical therapy for a knee injury. So I rewound it and watched him do the move again. So there you have it. Me + ESPN.)

Anyhow, the other day I wanted to try the move. It’s a modified version of the assisted squat I do with an exercise ball. Usually I just sandwich the ball between my back and a wall then use a single leg to squat down. ESPN squats (I just coined that. Watch for the trademark) use a resistance band looped like a figure eight around the calves for extra resistance. The normal one-legged squats were getting a bit too easy for me anyhow, so I thought it was a good time to switch things up.

[Read more →]

photo by dukal
First resolution: Never wear my hair like this.

It’s resolution time again. It’s the part of the year when we’re encouraged to make a giant to-do list packed with wild undertakings like save more money, lose five dress sizes, and singlehandedly create world peace. Or something like that.

I’ve never made a New Year’s resolution before. My life seems to be full of tiny yearlong resolutions, like Make It Through This Week. But this year I’ve decided to make The Big List. The reason, my friends, is you. This year I’ll be held accountable to my resolutions because I’m sharing them with more than The Man. May I feel the pressure to stick to these all year long…

1. Fix my knees. ’Nuff said.
2. Go to the gym six days a week. I’ll give myself a day of rest, naturally. And, of course, I get freebie time off after PRP injections, when my knee swells to grapefruit size, becomes stiff as steel, and aches like, well, four inches of needle were repeatedly stuck into it.
3. Eat out less. Aside from being a major money suck, eating out is a source of unnecessary calories, fat, and sodium.
4. Learn to cook better. I’m not an awful cook, but I have a lot to learn. I’d like to get more adventurous this year so I have more healthy recipes to chose from each night.
5. Read more. Sounds funny coming from a journalist, right? Truth is, I read all day long. It’s part of my job. And then I read for this blog. But with all of that reading I’ve made little time for books. I hope I can make room for more fiction and pleasure books in my 2010 life.
6. Do at least 20 regular push-ups in a row. As many of you know, I’ve started my Project Push-Up because getting my bum knees to work isn’t a big enough goal I’d like to be fit in some way.

Do you believe in making a big, beginning-of-year list? If so, what are your New Year’s resolutions?

photo by timtak
Maybe if I buy some supercool shoes I’d want to work out.

I’m not a liar. (OK, I lied to The Man about my love—or tolerance—of sports when we first started dating. But whatever.) My main point here is that I won’t lie to you. I started this blog to journal the ups and downs of living with knee pain. I wanted to mark the fitness and nutrition and emotional aspects of living healthy. I set out to chronicle my journey through PRP, PT, and whatever other acronyms come my way. But…

I have to admit: I’ve put off posting about my knees on purpose. That’s because it’s my fault they’re sore. I’ve skipped the gym for an embarrassingly long time. Sure, I had some good reasons at first: PRP, a chest cold, a 10-day headache, packing up my old place, and moving into my new place. But I haven’t gone back since moving even though I’m fully capable. Frankly, I don’t feel like it.

Back in the day—you know, summer of ’09—I looked forward to exercising after work. Whether I’d hit up the gym or the couch wasn’t a question; I came home, changed, then got The Man and myself over to the gym faster than you could say “dinnertime.” Now, after being out of practice, the motivation isn’t there. I’ve been meaning to get back to the gym for weeks, but somehow everything else in life has bumped the gym to the bottom of my Must Do Or Else list—things like unpacking boxes, organizing new drawers and cabinets, researching closet shelves, and, um, relaxing.

I’m hoping (crossing my fingers on both hands, which is making typing a little hard) this post will shame me into getting me to the gym. As in, I can’t face you tomorrow with a big, fat lie. So, I’m going tonight and I’ll write about my experience tomorrow. There—I’m locked in. (I hope.)

I hope I can kick-start my motivation simply by forcing myself to just go. But how do you get out of an I-don’t-wanna-exercise funk? Do you have any tips to get motivated?

photo by rachelcreative

As much as I loved Thanksgiving—a lot, especially since the dessert table had five pies—it reminded me of a few things I’m not too happy about. And if I can’t whine on this blog, then where can I? Besides, it’s a rainy Monday. That alone deserves a little bit of complaining.

Here’s my gripe: The whole act of getting from Virginia to Massachusetts is humiliating when your knees are lined with chewed-up cartilage. Forget that sitting for an hour and a half on an airplane makes my joints feel like a vice is tightening my insides. The problem is my mode of transportation.

You see, I have to use a wheelchair. No big deal, you say. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do to heal your knees. That’s what I thought the first time I parked my butt in one. But once you’re in the seat you realize it is a big deal. People look at you differently. Some soften their eyes like they feel bad that someone so young is trapped in a moving chair. Others are accusatory, as if my normal appearance means I’m faking the whole deal in order to skip the line at the Southwest gate. Even if people aren’t thinking I’m a loser, I feel like they are.

Some people tell me not to pay attention to what other people think. It’s easy to say when you’ve never rode a wheelchair. Maybe this is what overweight people feel, as if everyone is noticing their extra pounds and judging them for it. Maybe this is how other people with disabilities—missing limbs, paralysis, or even a limp—feel when they go through the airport. I sympathize with them.

In the end, it makes me feel crummy about my knees, about the fact they’re not fixed yet, and about the prospect of them never being fixed. Since my move, they’ve been sore and easily swollen, and I’m feeling closer to 85 than I am to 27. I fear they’ll never be fixed, that I’ll be wheeling through the airport for the rest of my life.

I’m hoping this feeling will pass, but for now, how do you get over hopelessness? Do you ever feel humiliated because of your body? What’s your solution?