So The Reluctant Vegetarian posted this week about The Flexitarian Diet. Given that I've been on this new eating system for just over four months now, I found it interesting.
The premise is that you become "mostly" vegetarian. Me? I'm "mostly" vegan - or as I regularly refer to it, "veganesque". I eat fish once or twice a week (though I think this volume is actually falling as I better and better learn the art of vegetarian cooking). I also don't go pure vegan in that I don't avoid products that have egg/dairy/etc. as minor ingredients in 'em.
Why not go full-force? First off, I'm just not super strict with myself, as I'm a pretty relaxed sort who's just trying to be better, not trying to be perfect. Secondly, I do a fair amount of client entertaining, which involves a lot of taking people for lunch and dinner. It's already next to impossible to find decent non-meaty meals in restaurants to begin with - particularly when you eliminate the cheese, creamy dressings, etc. I am simply not able to fully cut my need to eat out a few times a week given the job construct. I am okay with this. Overall, cutting out that stuff has been good for my health and has also reduced my footprint. It doesn't need to be exactly per some magical script. It's good and I'm happy about that.
So I'm not physically flexible, but indeed dietarily so! Har.
(In other news, I noted in that article that vegetarians are allegedly 15% lower on average in weight than non-veggies. How is it that I have yet to become 15% lighter care of my meatless/cheeseless agenda? Ridiculous!)
So how flexitarian are you?
So after not attending a single yoga or pilates class in all of 2008, I recently had a full physical. My results came back this week and I learned that a normal people have a score of 32 on this flexibility test I did. My score was 19. Yikes! (In good news, pretty much all else was highly positive and my muscular/cardio endurance were scored as excellent, whew.)
So I went to yoga today - I did a 1.5 hour Hatha class.
I was really bad! But it was good. I'm patient about this sort of thing (probably the only area in my life where patience legitimately arises, hah) and get that this will take time to rebuild. The class was small and my instructor was really helpful, spending a lot of time helping each person directly to ensure proper form, etc. It was also followed by half an hour of Yoga Nidra, which is effectively a guided meditation. So calming! So cozy!
I really want to get back into it. It's hard to fit in classes during the week with my work schedule - not even just because of the hours, but because of working outside of the downtown core. If I want to attend even a 7:30PM class, I have to do the following:
- Arrive at studio at 7:15.
- Arrive at home by 6:45 to drop off car, get stuff ready, and walk over.
- Leave work at 5:45 to ensure I get home for 6:45 with traffic constraints.
- Be done work at 5:30-ish so I can get out the door by 5:45.
- Arrive at studio at 7:15.
- Leave work at 6:45-7 with yoga stuff in hand, walking over.
God, I can't wait. My phsycial flexibility is dependent upon this work flexibility!
In the meantime, I will do my best to go on one weekend day and Tuesdays, when I'm already downtown for the day at school.
Six more months...
Okay, so I am suffering in a crazy way right now with sore legs, ass, abs, and arms, but sweet lord above. I feel amazing.
After the thrill of yesterday's pilates class, I decided to venture all by my lonesome once again to give power yoga a shot. My mother-in-law (an avid yoga-babe since the 70s) warned me that, among all the related classes she's ever taken, power yoga was the one she never tried twice. Did this discourage me? Of course not, it indeed spurred my sick competitive nature forward. Besides, it's yoga. How freaking difficult could it be? I can run my heart out for an hour or more without thinking twice -- surely it would be stretching my body into unusual and challenging formations, but there was no threat of exhaustion. Right?
Sigh.
I arrived to meet the teacher and only one other girl in the class. The other girl was explaining that she'd done a headstand for the first time yesterday. Um. No big deal. Another girl arrived and I was pleased to discover that she too was new to the art. The teacher looked ever-so-slightly concerned, but it was time to start, so off we went to grab blocks and get going.
After something like eleven minutes (okay, exactly like -- I was checking the watch like a crazy person), I was convinced that there was no.flipping.way I was going to make it through.
By some miracle, I pushed. And I pushed. And I pushed more. And I breathed. And I shook like crazy. And I balanced in a seated position on one foot with my in-the-air-ankle on my floor-leg-knee. And I did it. Pose after quick movement to new pose after staying in some other pose for what felt like days, an hour and fifteen minutes was over. Sure I couldn't keep my heels on the ground for downward dog, and sure I lost my balance and knocked over my own block on some single-footed-other-foot-high-in-the-air thingo, but I did it.
Joy.
Not just at being done -- though that miracle, in and of itself, was worth celebrating and feeling exceptionally tough over -- but at how great it felt.
In short: I am a convert. I can't wait to go again.
I love it.
My friend cancelled for ballet today as she was out really late last night, so I went to a second pilates class instead.
Between the two of them, I'm sore, but it feels amazing.
I have a two week pass for a nearby studio now -- they do both pilates and yoga -- and I'm hoping that I continue to love it. If so, I'm thinking that this can take over as the strength part of my workout routine.
Ballet is back to next Saturday for now.
And with all that healthy stuff done, I'm now ready to get going to the beer festival.
What is it? To try new things.
(1) Going to a pilates class on Friday.
(2) Going to a preliminary ballet class on Saturday.
(3) Yoga is next on the list.
(4) Signed up for a 5K run in September.
Whee!
I absolutely love Fresh.
Today, my parents are traveling from Edmonton to Portugal for a little vacation and had an overnight in Toronto. We met up with them for lunch before they headed back to the airport. In my ongoing effort in forcing them to try new things, I suggested Fresh. (Actually, Dave originally suggested it, as it's near a guitar store he wanted to show my dad, but I ultimately agreed and suggested it to my mom, so it's still kind of my choice. Hah.)
In any case, if you haven't been there before, you must go. It's the yummiest veggie restaurant in town (and in any town that I've ever tried) and we had yummy smoothies, Thai burgers, sweet potato fries, and miso gravy (heaven). In any case, the thing that cracked me up about this experience was the waiter's introduction of Today's Special.
"For brunch today, we have scrambled tofu, veggie back bacon, and..."
I didn't even hear the rest, as I was too focused on quieting my internal laughter.
Everything I've ever tried at Fresh is clearly veggie. It's no veggie food trying to make itself out to be non-veggie food. It's all "Hey. I'm a big delicious salad. This is my buddy, big delicious bowl of rice and veggies and sauce and tofu. And, hey, I know my brother's name says burger, but that's just for format -- it's pretty clear that he's made of veggie stuff and soy and the like. Good? Good."
Scrambled tofu? Veggie back bacon?
Kills me.
I get a huge kick out of how my adorable niece talks, and in my recent attempts to learn basic German, I've discovered that, in Wiesbaden, I will be linguistically equivalent to a two year old. It's hard when you're trying to translate in your head and still have limited vocabulary, people.
"I Canadian! I student! I work!"
And today I will add: I run!
Yep, a site I love is doing a virtual running clinic (props to Changa) and I've thrown my little self into the midst of it. Seeing as I will be without anything close to a gym for over three weeks, I thought I'd better come up with a secondary plan of attack, and this shall be it.
I went for the first time tonight and it was all kinds fun. Google Pedometer tells me that I ran just over six and a half kilometres, which thrills me endlessly. I'm going to try to throw this in as cardio twice a week 'til I go away, then by the time I get there, it should be all easy-peasy. I forgot that running outside has this awesome thing about it where you start to feel like you're flying around the twenty minute point -- the whole world just feels like it's disappeared and it's just you and the wind and loud music in your ears. I like that very much.
I also noticed tonight while running back through the park that the tennis courts are officially open for the summer. I will so be harassing Dave about that this weekend. Whee!
What a way to start the day. Throw on a swimsuit and a Tshirt and hang out drinking coffee and sunning it up. Ah, divinity.
After spending about two hours doing nothing, we hit the tennis court.
I have never played tennis in my life. I've always feared the running back-and-forth part, and the hitting, and the potential balls in the face (special occasions only, ladies). In any case, today I learned.
Every time we go to the cottage, Dave invariably becomes a dart aficionado. Basically, it's the only thing to do there, but he's rather compulsive about it. He'll play for four or five hours straight, getting annoyed with his failings and claiming glorious victory for his perceived successes. It's truly insane, and he is nuts for it.
Well, tennis is the new darts. Only I am turning into Dave.
No kidding, we played for 1.5 hours this morning (in the burning sun), then another three this evening under the court night lights. It was so ridiculously fun. I went from completely terrible to passably mediocre, and I can't stop talking about it. I can't wait to go back tomorrow. I referred to our vacation as tennis camp.
Here's me after the morning's round, red-faced and disgusting, but claiming glorious victory just the same.
Oh yeah, baby. It was that good.
So it's been a month since I started spinning now. Can I just say that it is possibly the most fun workout ever?
The first time I went, I was completely wiped afterwards. Red faced, gaspy breathed, euphoric, the whole nine yards. A month later? Red faced, gaspy breathed, euphoric, the whole nine yards. But! I've been able to push the resistance in a major way. I'm tougher, I'm faster, and I can do third position as long as anybody else in the class. The awesome music (today included my family favourite, "Beat It"), the closed eyes (go, go, go, go, go!), the fiery feeling in my lungs and my legs (ahhhh!), and the totally inspiring, friendly instructors (especially the studio's incredible owner) make the hour fly by.
Miracle!
The reason I tried this new addition to the regime out in the first place was (a) to mix up my cardio routine, and (b) a vain hope that this might possibly act as lower body strength training, which I generally loathe. My legs have never been at all strong, no matter how many squats and lunges I did, and it's consistently been a real source of workout frustration for me.
So my endless gratitude goes out to the fine staff at Quad for making lower body strength workouts actually feel fun. I'm even kind of sad that we're going to be away for the next two weeks, as I think I'll miss my hill-climbing-sprinting-good-times. I guess the sun and sand will have to make it up to me somehow.
I went to my first spinning class today!
I was stupidly nervous before going, as the last class I took resulted in humiliation and a downward shame spiral. I am not particularly good with being pushed too hard -- rather than motivating me, it tends to fill me with ultra-anxiety and make me retreat into my little shell. I'm someone who likes to work out on her own, and the last time I worked out with a traineer I threw up and then cried and then never went back. So, yes, I was afraid. But I registered last night with a sheer determination to try new things for the new year.
I arrived 20 minutes early. The studio was hot as hell, and I began to wonder if it was a bad sign that I was sweating before my class even began. I notified the girl at the desk that I was appropriately fearful and she laughed (nicely, not like an evil jackal) and told me I had nothing to worry about.
Fine. I got ready and watched the end of the evidently professional class before me (hah?). There was sweat flying everywhere. Ew.
In any case, when it ended, the very sweet instructor led me and a few other newbies to our bikes, helped us to get set up, and the fun began. Okay. Spinning is awesome. We did first position (hands in the middle!), second position (hands at the curves!), third position (hands at the ends, ass off the seat!), standing, jumping, increasing tension, sprinting, etc., etc. It was painful and my legs and ass are feeling the burn even an hour later (and will no doubt be all the worse off tomorrow), but it ruled.
More than anything, I was amazed that I could make it through the class. I'm ashamed to admit it, but there was a time when something far less would have me utterly wiped out. I was so unhealthy and out of shape a year ago, and I feel like I'm a totally different person now. I never in a million years thought that I would ever enjoy being active (even though it hurts my ass). I prefer this edition of me.
In the meantime, my boytoy is embracing street hockey.
He's taken up with a rogue gang of aging (aged? hah) boys who like to play on Sundays. The first time he went, he was flat-out half dead upon his return and vowed to start going to the gym to build up his cardio. He was ultra-pleased to announce today that he was able to play for a full two hours, scored a few goals, was fought over as a goalie by both teams, and saved a penalty shot or something like that. Yeah, I was half listening. The main thing is, he's enjoying himself.
In any case, I'm so pleased that we both have fun new activity things going on. I feel like we're getting healthier, and that is pretty darn good for the long-term.
So we had a super fun Christmas season. A few key reasons:
(1) Enough work, already! The last day of work was hilarious. We had dips and cheese and crackers, drank some Veuve, and did a swap-style gift exchange that ended in total hilarity ("I pity the fool that takes Lee for a joke"). Jen and I were The Biggest Losers and were probably the only chumps in our office pointing out which gifts we bought, as they made their way 'round the room most of all. I was thrilled to finally end up stealing her Jen's gift, which will sit on my desk forever.
(2) Cottageness! We got out of town quickly on Friday and arrived at the cottage in time for more cheese, crackers, and kielbasa. Dave's mom and stepdad are awesome and we definitely set the tone for a super holiday. (PS: Finn Crisps are five for one point. Buy them. Eat them.)
(3) Working it. Patti (his mom) and I stuck with our commitment to get in the daily exercise, and I actually even ran most days. I did six kilometres without stopping! I had no idea that I would be able to do this. My legs and abs wanted me dead, but I felt incredibly excited with myself about the whole thing. I even started each morning with abs and either squats/lunges or pushups (girl style). This is a Christmas miracle if ever I experienced one.
(4) Baking! My baked goods were a show-stopping hit with all who ate them. People were indulging in them and raving. I got to give all the props to my mom for teaching me to bake when I was a wee one, and her pastries were a particularly grand success. This made me feel a bit like my family was around, which was sweet.
(5) Fondue and pomegranate martinis! Christmas Eve effing ruled. We started with a delectable cheese fondue with french bread. The main course was oil fondue with meats and veggies -- I'd never tried this before and was amazed by how fun and yummy it all was. Finally, we had a choco-grand-marnier fondue with pineapple, bananas, strawberries, and kiwi. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. (And, yes, they were the Oprah martinis.)
(6) Niece time! The sister-in-law family arrived on Christmas day, and the baby was hysterically fun. I don't think I can think of anything more awesome in the world than an almost two year old. We played "boo", "fly", "sleepies", songs on the flexible roll-up "panano", and she was ec-freakin'-static. THEN! While she's chattered endlessly for what seems like forever, my name has always eluded her. Until... she sat on the couch with us in the evening, and very clearly said: "Hi Dave! Hi Jacquelyn!" She kicks way more ass than anything else.
(8) The peeps. Dave's family and their friends are so crazy fun. We laughed for five days straight, I swear. Between trashy magazines, Balderdash, Greek mythology about winter, demented dream analyses, and discussions of what Britney is doing to the new generation of young women, the whole thing kicked ass.
(7) Home again, home again. We came back today and I still have days and days of lounging around the house ahead of me before I have to go back to work.
This has been my favourite holiday season of all time. Awesomeness, awesomeness, awesomeness.
I haven't updated in forever. I keep starting and then closing the window. In order to get back on the wagon, I must present ten little updates.
(1) The loft is mostly set up. We still have to buy a coffee table, another living room chair, and some artwork, but it's pretty peachy. I can't get over how lovely and quiet it is here -- no jerky upstairs neighbours screaming at each other, no crack pipes in the backyard. Ah, this is the life, baby.
(2) Pam came to visit! The triumvirate of fun -- gossip, libations, and sneaky cigarettes -- came together fabulously for her trip to the city.
(3) Jen and I went to 'ho school (or at least that's what my charming boytoy called it). Please note: that is not -- I repeat, not -- us in the picture to the right. In fact, however, those women are effectively the other twenty or so women who were in our class. You know the ones. They're the professional dancers and athletes who -- instead of making silly faces and doing stupid dance moves when they can't do a flying backwards spin around a pole with one leg gracefully out in front of them -- have the instructor come over to show them said move more carefully, then proceed to practice it for two minutes only to master it as if they'd been on the pole for ten years. I don't think I've ever felt more deflated or taken more of a self esteem beating in my life, but the stories were worth it. Despite the humiliation, I managed to heartily entertain my husband with a few flashy moves when I got home, after which he couldn't stop laughing for ten minutes then followed up with a request that I never, ever, under any circumstances bring these moves forth in the boudoir. Mission accomplished?
(4) We had to replace our new mattress with a second, less fluffy new mattress. The original mattress was pocket coil + memory foam pillowtop. This sounded dreamy, and felt altogether cozy in the store. However, upon getting home, we discovered that said mattress was altogether delicious for lying in, it was not at all made for sleeping. After waking up about ten times every single night for a month then finally sleeping soundly the two nights we spent on a mattress from the 70s at the cottage, we knew a switch was in order. The new baby arrived yesterday and our whole sleeping situation is now conducive to the sweetest of dreams.
(5) I finished my first year (apparently the toughest of the three, in terms of volume and intensity) of my dastardly MBA. It may make me crazy, but I am a sucka for the madness. Last semester was a complete bitch, as our poor little group had dwindled down to three. By some miracle, we still completed everything (no thanks to a boatload of bullets) but I'm relieved to know that the school has reorganized all of our groups so I'll be back in a decent sized lineup next semester.
(6) We booked our trip to London to see a fun band in July. I don't know what we'll do the rest of the days, but I'm pretty sure we'll think of something. I haven't been to the UK since I was fifteen, which was a distressing thirteen years ago. I spent so many years of my life not being able to afford travel, it's just thrilling to finally be able to jet around when I feel the urge.
(7) My sister's wedding shower is in a few weeks, and I'm making the trip home to enjoy gossip, delicious dips, and mimosas. Strangely, this will be the first trip to Cape Breton since Christmas 2004. My parents have painted my old bedroom for the occasion. My sister and I plan to recreate our famous Three Pub Crawl on the Saturday night.
(8) My beloved little Mini uses just over half a tank a week. Hah! In a world of ever-increasing gas prices, this makes me want to kiss that car every time I get in it. The Saab used just under a full tank a week, and I really felt that was effing awesome. I do a lot of driving (to work, home, to work, to school, home, to work, to meetings outside the city, to warehouses, to suppliers, to meetings downtown, to work, to school, home, etc.) so this freaking rules.
(9) I started meditating to reduce potential for emotional responsiveness. I am generally not someone who responds emotionally, but given how stressful things are with work and school (and given the fact that my MIL -- who has meditated religiously since the 70s -- looks ten years younger than she is), it has to be worth something. Serenity now!
(10) I've worked out for 60+ minutes every day for five weeks. I haven't lost an ounce, but am down 1.5" each in the waist and hips, and 1" each in bust, arms, thighs, and calves. I can't really tell via the eyes, but for every four weeks of commitment, I am nonetheless rewarding myself with a decadent purchase. This time, I won myself a pair of Fidelity jeans.
PS: I should've made it eleven little updates, as I just changed the visuals of this blog. I know you're mocking me in your head, but I think my fourteen-year-old-girl-style rules.
