Wednesday, April 30, 2014

DIY uses for Minnesota Meteorologists in spring



                                              DIY Uses for Minnesota Meteorologists


Given the BS schizophrenic weather Minnesota likes to test us with I decided to write about alternate uses for meteorologists during the spring months in Minnesota. None of them can accurately predict weather here any more accurately than Ricky could predict Lucy’s shenanigans so lets make them useful.



     Meteorologists in Minnesota are often tiny and blond due to trending populations and likability polls. Given their reflective coloring you can also use them as sun reflectors to take that Minnesota tan from Fish Belly White to Corpse! 



   

  Given their talent with waving their hands at screens and laughing uncomfortably They could also be used to give Vanna White a night off for one god damn night. 


 
                                                




      TV expert strategists.. Lets admit it most “experts” cant find the area they are talking about on a god damn map. Lets bring the pros in who don’t even need to look. 





4   Just for Irony.. an Umbrella stand..





     Rent them out as power point masters…



     











Hmm… Maybe as fact checkers…






   How about meteorologist Hunger games?



    


 Maybe use the time for a phone in segment of ask the weather guy..






   Maybe they can try out other TV options…






 Or careers…






Ok... This was all really an elaborate excuse to use this last picture.. 




Saturday, April 26, 2014

Good trainer Vs Bad Trainer





          Ok before I start this particular blog I want to issue a disclaimer.  What I am about to write about is not a blanket statement for all personal trainers. In fact it isn’t a statement for 90% of the trainers out there. I have been a gym rat for a loooooooong time at many different places and most of the trainers I have met are solid individuals who honestly want their clients to be healthy, feel good about themselves and meet their health goals. That being said I want to write today about the sub population that is a disturbing constant from gym to gym. They account for maybe one in fifteen personal trainers by my experience and they are dangerous as hell. 

      Before I get started let me weave for you a little back story. A couple months back I met a lovely woman at the gym in one of my fitness classes. She is mid 30’s with three kids. She is maybe 5’5, trim and fit with the glowing skin of someone who is getting the right nutrition and water. I met her because she was starting a new training session with a new trainer because the old one “Couldn’t get her where she needed to be” after six weeks of work. This isn’t an uncommon statement. It happens. Some trainers specialize in specific techniques and those techniques may not match up with the client’s body or needs so they switch to a different one. However, she was led to believe that the problem was her and not the techniques being used. She was told her body is stubborn and doesn’t want to give up the weight. 

         As she began to go into more detail I became more alarmed. At best this lady weighs 130-135lbs and us EMS folk are usually pretty damn accurate at sizing up weights on patients. It’s a necessary skill. She is athletically fit with no real appreciable bulges and can keep up easily in higher intensity classes. She tells me her goal is to drop around 30lbs which would put her around the 100lbs mark. I politely asked if she was training for something specific and she replied no. In meeting with this new trainer, the one that “WILL GET HER TO HER GOAL” they set a rather extreme fitness plan. When I met her that day she had already been at the gym for three hours working out and running. She was just going into a rather intense class hour long class and after was meeting one on one with the trainer for more work. She became light headed a few times in class but pushed through. She told me her food was now severely restricted and the expectation was that she would keep to this kind of frequency indefinitely.

           I had just met the woman but everything about this set off alarm bells. I had orthorexia in my early 20s. I was taken in by a similar kind of trainer who recognized my drive as something they could manipulate for gains. I was indoctrinated and set off on my own to follow a very similar plan with no appreciable goal or end. Orthorexia is a vicious eating disorder in that the farther you fall into it the more people compliment the results. You take in minute amounts of calories and work out 4-5 hours a day. At my worst I was burning around 4500 calories a day working out hard five hours and taking in 300 calories. At that point I was so depleted I ceased to menstruate and soon after that the wake-up call came. The fact that a ‘professional’ was prescribing the same diet plan for a woman who really didn’t have 30lbs of fat to lose was alarming to say the least. In addition the idea that they were implying her body was somehow at fault was additionally so. I politely warned her not to be led too far down a path away from her health and she thanked me for my concern. We finished the class and chatted of inconsequential things and said farewell. I left the gym worried about my new friend. 


               About a month later I walked by someone sitting in the hall. I heard my name called out and turned to see my new friend. She was slumped on the floor her back to a wall legs splayed out before her on a break between sessions. Her skin once glowing and beautiful was grey and slack. She had huge dark circles under her eyes and looked exhausted. Alarmed I asked her if she was ill and her reply was no. She had lost some of the weight but not enough for the trainers liking. The trainer had further restricted her diet to simple foods like nuts and vegetables. She quipped with a sad smile that her body wasn’t behaving and it was frustrating her trainer. I sat down with her and we talked for a few moments. I asked if the goal weight was realistic and if the trainer had discussed this with her. I commented that when I met her a month ago she looked beautiful and fit then so I was confused at the drastic need for weight to come off. She told me about the first trainer commenting how amazing she would look if she just dropped some of the weight. When the weight didn’t come off the trainer expressed confusion and frustration and switched her to the new trainer. Then how the second trainer told her she was too heavy and that drastic measures were needed.  She was treated as if SHE was the problem and being new to a gym environment she bought it. She said she was sore, and exhausted. Her hair was falling out, her sleep was poor.  Never was the idea of what would be a healthy goal discussed. Never was there a discussion about realistic expectations built on her body type and health. No healthy goals were discussed. No doctor was consulted. Just extreme restrictions, 4-5 hours of exercise a day and disappointment were prescribed with no thought to her health.


               It’s alarming in a culture like that just how easy it is to drink the kool aid and join the cult. Who doesn’t want to be told they are beautiful? Who doesn’t have body insecurities? Most of the trainers there want people to achieve their goals, live a healthy vibrant life and find joy in the union of their minds and bodies. They cheer people on and become a support structure. The trainers tat are in it for the wrog reasons tend to manipulate their concept of health onto others using shame and judgements.  Those few have yet to deal with their own personal fitness demons and instead inflict them on others and to me that is appalling. 

So as spring ramps up and people start all of their warm weather fitness plans here is the advice; 
Buyer beware.
If it seems extreme to you say so.
If they treat you like a disappointment: Run away.
Cross check your goals with another trainer or a doctor.
No one should use a Hollywood body as a goal. That’s way too much starvation and plastic to be healthy.
Love yourself. Respect what your body can do and praise it.
And finally the best advice I was ever given..
Add one good habit every once in a while. Eventually the good habits will crowd out the bad and you will be golden.

      I haven’t seen my new friend around the gym for a few weeks. I selfishly hope that is because she has parted ways from the trainer and is working with someone who has her best interests at heart. I love the gym. I love the people, the energy, I love the culture. I love making my body feel strong and feeling confident in what I am capable of doing. I had to really learn those things by going through what I did to myself in my early 20s. and in a weird way for that I am appreciative. I hope this process gives that gift to my new friend too. 

Your body is not the enemy.
 Its your ally

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

The voices in my head



        


       The last two weeks or so I have been feeling Old. Capital O Little l, little d, period. I attributed a lot of it to stress and my schedule not really allowing for regular daily gym time like I usually make it a point to have. Last Friday I scooted over in time for a later yoga session and limped out with electric bright pains all over. This isn’t my norm. I again chalked it all up to life and old age and set off to work my weekend. Monday I went to a mellower version of Yoga and still didn’t feel right afterwards so I did something desperate for me. I booked a massage. It’s rare for me to do this. I am a single mom who is fairly thrifty and often will spend any mad money towards the kiddo or the house well before myself. I am not a pain killer person in general. So I bit the bullet and booked a damn massage. 
 

           In general I am a healer personality, when I am not beating the hell out of a heavy bag. So massage, spa treatments, hell even a friend giving me a shoulder rub makes me feel weird. Not bad, or uncomfortable just like the roles should be reversed. So the massage place begins their rituals of pampering, Juice with antioxidant shot, warm aromatherapy towel, soothing music, dim lights. And there I sit feeling like an imposter. Like a member of some Viking horde that has somehow tricked their way into some delicate realm. I drink my juice, stare blankly at the towel (where does that go?) and eye the unobtrusive ads touting facials that make you look like a Disney princess and poisons you can inject into your skin because apparently you hate it. Needless to say I suck at luxury and relaxation. 
 
Guess which one I am.
               Eventually a very pleasant woman nearer 60 than 50 comes out. She is rangy, with short silver hair and one of those faces that reminds you of an elf. She grins a mischievous smile and I instantly like her. She ushers me back and asks me some questions then walks me through the procedure and leaves so I can get undressed. I slide between earth tone sheets that have been warmed and lay staring at the ceiling as ordered. Soon she bustles in and starts working at my shoulder neck and face. She comes across scars, Bumps and knots and inquires if they are normal for me. My answers initially are vague.. Yeah.. I injured that. I tore muscles there.. After a time she lets the silence spin out after my answers which presses me for more detail. “I got kicked in the back”, “A punch broke my nose”, “I broke those breaking boards for a demo” and on and on. I explained that I used to teach martial arts and did compete on a national level. Most of my injuries came from that but a fair amount came from testing my mortality when I was younger. “I tore those in a car accident”, “I broke that bungee jumping”, “That hasn’t been the same since I tumbled off a cliff” She laughs at each one in delight. At one point she declared me a FEMA project. We talked and in that discussion I discovered something about myself.

I am proud of my body.


               No it doesn’t meet a standard idea of beauty. Given my genetics I will never be a willowy fragile waif. I will always have muscles and be curvy. As women we CONSTANTLY critique ourselves. The ones who say they never do are lying. No matter how liberal and liberated you are its pressured on us at an early age to evaluate ourselves. To change ourselves. As young girls we are taught, not out of maliciousness but tradition, how to dress to hide our flaws. We are taught to apply make up to “fix our faces”. How to stand skinnier, suck it in, tuck it up, how to use your hair to balance the flaws of your face. It’s the terminology that soaks into our psyches... Broken, unbalanced, wrong, unattractive, unflattering. That becomes our inner critic and therefore part of our inner voices. As adults we become aware of these habits but they have been ingrained from so early that the critic never really shuts up. So as a result we carry around a list of flaws. I am not going to hit on all this too hard as it’s not really the reason for this post. But I will someday soon. 

Preview!

               So there I am laying on a luxe bed having a stranger work on my muscles feeling like a giant awkward gawky mess when suddenly my brain whispers up. “You have had a LOT of adventures. Your body has done some amazing things” holy shit. Was that just positive feedback, brain? It got me thinking. Me and my body despite our differences have accomplished and survived some pretty god damn amazing things. I have run races, sword fought, mountain climbed, swam, scuba dived, fought, flown, bungee jumped, danced, hiked, explored. My body has created life. I have grown and made my body strong. No it’s not model perfect. And honestly it never will be because I have muscles and value strength not how emaciated I can become.  I have scars and cellulite and bulges but in comparison to what my body is capable of doing who fucking cares? And honestly if that’s someone’s line for appreciating me then fuck em. They can go swim in the superficial pool with the rest of the twats. That goes for everyone else. If your body doesn’t fit into Vogues idea of beauty, rip that fucking book up, light it on fire and roast some damn marshmallows on it. 
Then while you enjoy your s’mores sit your lovely ass down and make a list of all of the amazing things your body is capable of. Live beyond the smoke and mirrors of photoshop and lighting. Your body is FUCKING amazing. It’s not a collector’s item, you only get one. Move, dance, sing, love, wear whatever the hell you want. You only get one body, it’s time to stop viewing it as the enemy and start seeing it as a partner in crime. 

       

             As I am pondering all this my elfin friend pipes up quietly as she digs her fingers into my shoulder joint. “You know, it’s pleasant to work on someone who hasn’t taken their body for granted and used it like a fragile toy. Yes, you have done some damage but you have really lived.” 


Fuck yeah.