I don't lift heavy.

The reason I don't lift heavy is simple, it is uncomplicated.  It is without fuss and muss.  I am not delusional.  Most times I go to the gym to "work out", I am really just going through the motions.  

I am there usually after a 9 or 10 hour day.  Or I am sneaking a quick workout in during my lunch hour, whilst reading a book about parenting on the bike that I am pedaling leisurely. I think that the main problem has been a mindset that if I am not going to have time for a 2.5 or 3 hour work out, I might as well not even bother.  And so therefore the fact that I am in the gym means I should get points just for trying.  Further, I think it takes a lot of discipline, and a lot of nerve and a lot of energy to live heavy.  You spend most of your mental effort convincing yourself that you can do it. For me, it's mostly a matter of holding myself to a standard, and not accepting anything less than that.  It takes a lot of energy and willpower.  

So I had a little "Come to Jesus" talk with myself this week.  There is a fitness room in my building at work.  And I managed one workout this week.  One measly, pathetic workout before work.  What I realized this week is that yes, I would like to have 2-3 hours a day to work out, but I am not a fitness model, nor am I training for an olympic sport.  Millions of Americans manged to stay fit by working out for an hour every day, and that it really is time for me to get off my high horse and walk it off.  

So, I am taking a new approach with fitness:  one hour.  Every day, without fail.  Without excuse, without exception, one hour.  And since it's only one hour, it has to be "balls to the wall" (to use an old indoor soccer term.  No loafing, no half a$$ing it.  Dripping in sweat, aching, WORKing out.  

Today I tried my new philosophy at the gym.  I spent 20 min on the bike, lifted arms and legs.  Did some free weight moves.  And then it came to the lat pull.  This is, without a doubt, no question about it, my least favorite exercise.  

For me, the problem is a self-circling one, where in, I have little upper body strength, so I dont like these kinds of exercises.  I don't like them, so I don't do them.  And thus, continue to have little upper body strength.  So for the last 20 minutes of my workout today, I lifted heavy.  One of my life list items is to do 10 pull-ups.  In a row.  I thought that the lat-pull will eventually help me get there, to the that point, when I am hauling my own body off the ground, up over a bar. 

In that 20 minutes of intentional work, I held myself to a standard and didn't back down.  I was able to convince myself that I can lift heavy.  It was nice to be lost in that moment, coaxing my body through a series of movements that are in an effort to make it stronger.  

This post was originally published at Go Mighty.  

Project WIno: COMPLETE

I have done it!!  I have consumed 12 different wines!!

I had a great time learning about wines.  The suggestions from the Go MIghty community were awesome.  After perusing WineFolly, I printed out the info graphic showing all the different types of wine.  And I have been dutifully marking them off, one by one.  

The great thing about this project is that I have found a couple of wines I really like (Vinho Verde, Pinot Grigio, Reisling) and a couple that I will drink, for the health benefits (Pinot Noir).  Also, since I am, at my heart, cheap about things I don't understand, most of these wines were really affordable.  Like $10-$14 a bottle affordable.  This may change as my wine taste develops.  It just seems ludicrous to start drinking wine and go straight for the expensive stuff.  

The latest installment of Project Wino features a Rioja and  Chardonnay.  The Chardonnay was the store brand from Costco.  Someone bought it and left it at my house.  It's about as good as you would expect from a store-brand white wine (read: not good).  The Rioja was a bit fiestier than I like.  But it will do.  Again, I am not going to get drunk drinking it, but I envision myself drinking more.  

This post was originally published at Go Mighty.  

20 Minutes, Wine, Van Morrison, and my Fountain Pen

I am terrible at taking time out of my day to do things I love.  I don’t know exactly what the problem is… its not like I have a shortage of things I love.  I have compiled a life list that allows me to do the things I love, so one would think that I would have even more motivation to do these things, like workout more, write, blog, travel, craft, cook, etc.  My guess is that I just have a really hard time finding a decent work-life balance.  

After working an 10 or 11 hour day, scooping up my boy, running errands, cooking dinner, and getting a load of laundry in, I should feel like it’s time that I do something I want to do.  But most of the time, I end up wasting little 20 minute blocks of time I do get, when my husband is giving the boy a bath, with things like surfing the internet, laying out clothes for tomorrow, etc.  

Last night, rather than doing these things, I sat down intentionally with a glass of wine and Van Morrison on Pandora.  One of my life list items is to fill a blank notebook with recipes.  These are recipes that I want to remember.  These recipes are for amazing food that either I or a family member or friend has made.  I am in love with Jamie Oliver’s “Jamie Does…” cookbook.  Combined with my desire to find 5 vegetable dishes that my husband will eat, we tried a variation of his smashed chickpeas last night.  Combined with a broiled salmon that I free-styled, we had a wonderful dinner.  Both were awesome and I wanted to write the recipes down- they are both keepers.  

The notebook is red, with a textured cover.  It has an elastic and lined pages.  For the longest time, I collected these recipes in a folder or pinned to my bulletin board.  When I bought the notebook three years ago, I just wanted to have a place to put all the recipes.  I thought briefly about just taping the recipes on their own page, but discarded the idea, because when this notebook gets passed down to my son (or another yet to be conceived child), I want him to see my handwriting. 

One day, I am going to die.  If I have done my job right, he will still be alive.  I hope that he is a grown man, with a wife and family.  And I want him to hold this book his hands and touch the lines of cursive script.  I want him to think about the wood-paneled walls of the kitchen in the grey house that we lived in Tallahassee.  I want him to remember the happy occasions when we had smashed chickpeas, corn chowder or Hahn brownies.  

I want him to prepare these dishes when he misses me. 

This post was originally published at Go Mighty.