It’s by Coco Love Alcorn, Canadian pop and jazz singer. I’m posting it for Kate, author of the guest post Beginner’s Love.

There’s also a version Coco Love performed live with Evalyn Parry

Enjoy!

This morning I heard an interesting thing on the radio. A researcher from Purdue (I’m afraid I didn’t catch her name) was talking about aspartame.  I thought it was by now obvious that we should be avoiding it because it’s so terribly bad for us.

But apparently it’s not obvious. The jury is still out on aspartame and its impact on our health.

The most interesting thing this researcher said was that the soft drink companies (the ones that make pop (or soda, depending where you live)) in particular have slithered their way into our psyches. They get us to ask this question: is a diet soft drink better for me than a regular soft drink?

When people decide that aspartame is bad for them, they feel driven back to regular old soft drinks.

But, said this researcher, that’s not really the question we should be asking.  Really we should be asking whether we should drink soda/pop at all.  She pointed out that back in the day these were occasional drinks. No one really lived on Coke and Pepsi, Sprite and 7-Up.  But nowadays, we drink a lot of a lot of things (see Sam’s post on water), including pop.

Some people drink pop at every meal (even breakfast — seriously. I once went out with someone who drank 6-8 cans of Coke a day). And of course the sizes that are on offer these days are ridiculous.  Remember last year when New York City banned super-sized regular pop over 16 ounces? Whatever you think of the paternalistic motives for restricting consumer choice in this way, from a health perspective there’s no denying that enormous servings of pop deliver no nutritional value and therefore loads of empty calories.

But the ban didn’t apply to diet drinks.

The researcher from Purdue says we would do well to go back to soda/pop as an occasional treat. If that were all it was, then it wouldn’t matter so much whether you chose a regular or a diet.  Sugar or chemicals once in a while wouldn’t be so bad.

So even though there’s no conclusive evidence about whether aspartame is bad for you, it’s fairly clear that drinking pop is not such a great health strategy.

Aspartame shows up in all sorts of other things besides pop, such as yogurt, sugar-free gum, other kinds of diet drinks (like diet iced tea and crystal light), sweeteners, and even some cereal.

As a general rule, I am feeling more and more drawn to a diet that focuses on whole, unprocessed foods.  One thing I know for sure is that aspartame isn’t among them.  I also know that if I’m going to go for something sweet, it’s usually going to involve real sugar.

Drinks are more challenging, however. I myself have been known to have the occasional Diet Coke, and this summer on the boat I drank Crystal Light most days. This is after swearing off it some years back.  I’m not sure what the allure is — there is nothing especially wonderful about Crystal Light.

Both the Purdue researcher and Sam’s post about water have got me thinking quite a bit about the way I’ve been drinking and how much of it is out of habit.  If I am committed to good quality where my food is concerned, why do I take such an unreflective attitude about what I drink?

I’m going to pay more attention. Not so much because I’m afraid that aspartame is bad for me (though it may well be), but because now that I reflect on it I don’t even like it that much.

I switched to diet pop because I fell for the soda companies’ question: should I choose diet or regular?  And given my preoccupation with weight loss back when I first entertained the question, the answer seemed obvious: diet.

But clearly there are other choices altogether.

This past weekend, I had the chance to complete another triathlon with my mother, Samantha Brennan. It was located in Rondeau Provincial Park and we camped for the weekend and participated in the triathlon on Saturday afternoon.  We decided to do this triathlon in part because our earlier triathlon in Kincardine became a duathlon after water temperatures were too cold to swim. You can view Samantha’s post on our triathlon in Rondeau here which includes some of the other reasons we decided to do this particular triathlon.

If you have read Samantha’s other posts you will be aware that I am a barefoot runner. To be fair, I don’t run very often but, when I do, I find it more comfortable to do so barefoot.  I have a pair of nice running shoes with orthotics for running. I also own a pair of Vibram FiveFinger shoes. But since I don’t usually wear shoes in the summer, it seems silly to find socks and put on shoes just for running. I also find it much more comfortable. When we looked at completing our first triathlon of the summer in Kincardine I had to think about what kind of footwear I would wear, what worked best for transitioning from swim to bike to run. In the end I decided to do it barefoot although I put on sandals while riding my bike. (I also had running shoes in case race officials insisted on shoes)

For our second triathlon it was an easier decision. Having already completed a triathlon (technically a duathlon) barefoot I wasn’t worried about being able to do it so I decided again to do the run barefoot.  In preparation for the race we set up our transition zones. As Samantha was doing the do-a-du (run, bike, run) and I was doing a tri-a-tri we separated into our groups- the duathletes started first, followed by the male triathletes followed by the female triathletes. As my group was the last to start I had lots of time to chat with other people racing. It was a really diverse crowd with lots of beginners who had never done a triathlon before as well as lots of people who had done triathlons years ago but not since.

The first event was the swim. The water was choppy and we heard later they almost cancelled the swim because of this. Also, most of the lifeguards were in the water with us instead of on shore as they had been with the earlier races. This made the swim harder than expected, especially since I am used to swimming in a pool where there is no choppiness at all. I finished near the end of the pack but there was not a huge gap between swimmers. There were a number of people who had to be rescued because they could not complete the swim.

After the swim, you had to run along the beach to the transition zone where you put on your helmet, switched shoes and grabbed your bicycle. Here’s where the accidental barefoot part comes in. I put on my helmet, my glasses (since I swim without them) and a t-shirt over my bikini. Then I grabbed my bike, ran out the transition zone and started riding. About fifty meters down the path I realized I had forgotten to put on my shoes!

The rest of the triathlon was lots of fun. I was the slowest of the runners, middle of the pack for biking and swimming. I passed lots of people in the transition zone because I didn’t have footwear to change between events! Next year my goal is to complete the sprint distance- 750m swim, 20km bike, 5km run.

The photo above is from the Kincardine event. It’s me crossing the finish line, in barefeet, of course.

Mallory Brennan is a studying music and computers at University of Western Ontario.  She enjoys aikido, swimming and singing in many choirs.  During the school year, Mallory is far too busy for her own good but enjoys life nonetheless.

Well, that was a great last race of summer! My daughter and I did the “try a tri” and the “do a du” with the Chatham Kent YMCA over the weekend.

She did the try-a-tri and I did the duathlon.

We chose that event after the “try a tri” that wasn’t for three reasons:

1. It’s for a great cause, the Y’s Strong Kids Campaign: “The YMCA Strong Kids Campaign helps ensure no child is left out and every family who needs financial assistance has access to YMCA facilities and programs.”
2. It’s held in a nearby provincial park with available camping spots and so it seemed like a great chance to combine family camping with some running, biking, swimming.
3. And I heard from a close friend and relative that it was a warm, friendly, supportive environment.

The camping worked out really well. We camped at the park the night before which made it all very relaxing. I got do a loop of the bike course before it opened. I find driving stressful and so it was really nice to wake up at the race site. We did the same thing in Kincardine (though we stayed in a hotel) and I liked it then too.

In the morning we went over to early register, get numbers etc, and watch some of the kids’ races. The down side was wandering around all morning with my age as of Dec 31, 2013 written on the back of my right calf in large black letters. I took off the ankle bracelet/chip timer for fear of accidentally setting off the timer and having the longest run time ever!

I love the kids’ events. The youngest age group was 5-7. There was even a bike with training wheels.

Gathering for the adult event in the afternoon, it was clear that this would be fun. I’m nervous sometimes racing in mixed events but the men were really friendly and helpful. Mostly they weren’t aspiring serious triathletes but rather soccer and hockey playing guys who’d been talked into it by their partners. The women were mostly runners, as usual, of a pretty good range of ages. The oldest was in her sixties. And there was lots of nervous laughter and jokes at the start of the race.

After the race briefing, my daughter and I separated as they started the duathlon 15 minutes before the try-a-tri.

In retrospect I’m glad I didn’t see the start of her race. There were big waves and a lot of chop and they ended up doing a half dozen rescues. I did get nervous hearing all the volunteers’ radios announce each time a swimmer was rescued but a woman at the finish made me feel better when she said she’d seen her out on the bike course.

I shouldn’t worry. She’s a serious swimmer and a lifeguard but mothers worry. Chatting at the end she said they were practically swarmed with lifeguards in the water, one in sight at all times, at least a dozen in the water plus two on each of the two boats. The lifeguards were giving people advice on how to swim parallel to the beach in big waves. That’s what people mean when they talk about a supportive first time race environment. By the end, for the last swimmers, they pretty much had a 1-1 guard-swimmer ratio.

Also, worth noting is that she did the entire thing barefoot and came 3rd in her age group.

My performance was a Sam classic. I was last (yep, dead last) out of everyone doing the duathlon at the end of the first run and  then I had fun passing a lot of people on the bike. I had the 4th fastest bike time out of 24 men and women. Whee!

To be fair, it was my sort of bike course, a 5 km box with flat roads. I like corners and I like flat.  On the first go round I had volunteers yelling at me to slow down for the corners but no yelling after that, once they realized I was fine cornering at speed. (For tips read Cornering at speed. Main bit of advice, don’t break in the corner, slow down first if you need to and accelerate out of the turn.)

Of course, I got passed by a lot of people on the second run and in the end I came second in my age group (out of five) but as my daughter reminded me, I was also the oldest in my age group. Ouch! A good thing about age groups though is that I’ll be happy to count as 50 for next summer’s races. Age group
medals feel a bit deceptive as I was in the bottom third of all the finishers. But so too were all the people my age. Maybe that’s just life and it’s okay. I think I’ll think on this a bit and blog about age group awards some time.

I did a few things differently this time around. I bought speed laces for my running shoes so no fussing with laces. I remembered not to take my helmet off until my bike was on the rack ( a triathlon rule). And I deliberately ran at my pace–SLOW–for the first run. It was hard being last when I knew I could pass people but I also knew I’d be able to run fast by the end if I didn’t go too hard at the start.

All good choices.

It was a lovely event and we’d definitely do it again. Waves aside it was a pretty friendly swim course. And the organizers were so cheerful, supportive, and helpful.

What would we change? Two things:

1. Our usual gripe: There was no vegetarian food at the barbecue after. “The buns are vegetarian,” said one of the volunteers helpfully.
2. Although it was fun getting up on a podium and having people cheer when we got our age group medals, we like it when everyone gets a medal. So does Tracy and you can read why here.

We camped the next night too so we could relax with friends and family after. In the morning we walked down the beach to watch the longer distance triathlon that was held the next day. Day 1 was kids’ races and beginners. Day 2 was time for the serious triathletes. It was really exciting seeing them start and then watching them run out of the water in their wetsuits.

We’re scheming and aspiring for next year!

Burpees, I’m taking a break. It’s not you, it’s me. I have a sore hip.

It was fun at the start, Burpee summer challenge! We’re in. Are you?

I made it pretty happily to the half way mark, Loving and hating burpees: A midseason report on the 100 day challenge and Halfway there! Happy 50 burpees day!.

The end was less fun but I’m happy to report that I made it to 80 and I’ll rejoin for the last day, by my count Monday, September 2nd, and do 100. But for now, I’m taking a burpee break.

See you for 100?

I’m over forty.  I’m not fit.  I don’t really like exercise.  And I have a tendency to imposter syndrome.  So you can imagine my hesitation as I stood in a store looking doubtfully at the bicycle that the clerk (looking bored, half my age, and of course, fit) had removed from the bewildering variety available.

So why was I there?  Partly because of this blog, to be honest.  I know Sam and Tracy, and I follow and enjoy their work.  Every entry that I read here makes me feel more capable, more connected to women like me.  I regularly figure that I may just be fooling myself, like sharing something on FaceBook and thinking it’s activism.  Maybe I feel good reading about fitness, but don’t follow up once I step away from the computer, I worry.  Of course, like a lot of people who are self-aware about imposter syndrome, I can easily tell an opposing narrative that is also true: When I step away from my computer, I take pleasure in walking endlessly, easily, for miles.  I don’t miss having a television and I’m not a couch potato. I eat fresh fruits and vegetables, and I haunt my farmers’ market.

Still, imposter or not, the fact is that I’m not fit.  I am a middle-aged woman with a sedentary job in higher education and most of my day is spent at a computer.  So I was also in the store in order to live differently.  My husband and I had, just a week or two before, moved to a new neighborhood with a long and lovely bike trail running all the way to my workplace.  We have opportunities that many people can only imagine, to live a healthy and thriving life in a community that really values its parks and trails.  We are well aware that we are lucky to have the problem of a life perfect for biking, and no bikes.  So there I was, straddling my first bicycle in twenty years.

“How does it feel?” my husband asked.

“It feels just right.” It really did.  I felt like it was exactly the right height, the seat was even set to the right level for me.  Maybe another woman my height had looked at it and backed out of purchasing or opted for something better.  Fitter.  Something appropriate to a person who cared and knew more, with a name like the Urban Hybrid or the Commuter Cross-Fit.  The model I was drawn to was the “Women’s Comfort Bike.”  That figures.  It goes with my comfort-cut jeans and my loose cotton shirt.

It also felt fantastic.  The handlebars were at a perfect level, as if they rose up to meet my arms.  The clerk pumped up the tires and their new treads bounced happily on the store floor.  My doubts weren’t about the bike.  They were all about me.  I’ll never use it.  I’m going to fail at this.  All these negative thoughts, and I hadn’t even left the sporting-goods aisle.

I said I’d take it.  I tried on a few helmets and picked one that fit snugly.  My husband enthusiastically suggested we buy a bell, both because he was really very supportive of my adventure in bicycle purchasing, and because he must have inwardly worried I could come to harm from sheer inexperience.  We grabbed a tire pump, and headed for the check-out.  I swallowed hard at the cost.  I paid it with outward calm and inward fears that I had thrown away the money.  We wheeled to the car.

There was no way it was fitting in the car.

“Okay, I know we didn’t plan this, but I can ride it home.” As soon as I said it, I started grinning.  I hope I didn’t look nervous. My husband did.  He was well aware it had been twenty years.  And we were about as far on the other side of our little town as we could be, at the height of evening traffic, on the wrong side of an intersection recently named one of the deadliest in the county.

Novice observation #1: Just the thought of hopping on and riding away can really get the adrenaline pumping!  I was trying not to act overexcited, in case I seemed completely delusional about the risks.

“Are you sure?  Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sure.  I can do this.” I wasn’t sure.  But I couldn’t take my eyes off the bicycle.  I was already tightening the strap on my helmet.  He promptly grabbed the tools from the car and fixed the bell to the handle.  I strapped on the backpack I’d brought just in case.  (Novice observation #2: So that’s what all those straps on backpacks are for.  Hey, the waist-belt-buckle actually has a use!)

“Be careful at the intersections.” We kissed a bit more intently than necessary for two people who’d only be apart for 30 minutes.  But there was Death Intersection to think about.  Observation #3: Before I was on the bike, I was thinking about my route, my town, the drivers in it and the qualities of the roads with more attention to detail than I’d experienced since moving here three years ago.  As I wobbled across the parking lot, I thought of philosopher Virginia Held’s work, arguing that a caring politics would arrange shared public goods so that we could look after each others’ thriving as members of a community.  The speeding private cars, the commercial parking lot, and the weedy sidewalks at this end of town did not promote within me a sense of being cared for.  (Observation #4: Bicycling can heighten one’s political commitments within about five seconds of beginning a ride.)

I picked up speed.  I wobbled less.  The roads in this area are hillier than I ever noticed (#5) was following quickly by the realization, I have thigh muscles (#6).  And they work!  Some of them work better than others, but the point remains: I am discovering that I’m capable of moving a bicycle up a not-insignificant hill.  I worked my way to the newsworthy intersection of death.  I renewed my acquaintance with lots of brake squeezing, and I looked into the windshields of approaching cars.  #7: I am making a lot more eye-contact with drivers.  People stop and meet my eyes, wave me across.  I’m glad I live in a small town.

Then, the downhill.

#8: I am flying.  I know this is called an endorphin rush and I’m trying to reflect rationally upon it, but I’m feeling too euphoric to be very chatty with myself.  The uplifting feelings continue long after I’m back to pedaling and gradually working my way through the downtown.  “That was fantastic,” I say with a big smile when I get home.  I’m tired.  My butt is a wee bit sore.  I’m thirsty.  And it’s clear to me (#9) that loose clothing isn’t right for bicycling. I’ll have to think more about what I’m wearing, what feels best and is safest for me to do.  I feel happy.

He looks happily back at me.  “What struck you most?”

“I noticed there were more people bicycling in this town than I have ever noticed before.”

He nods.  “I noticed them more, too.”  #10: I’ve taken one ride, and both of us are already more attentive drivers.  We care more about keeping an eye out for the safety of others on bikes.  That was unexpected.  That stuck.

What’s the best thing about the end of summer and the beginning of the school year?  Routine!  Especially for me as I’ve also just returned from a year of study leave. It’s a year I longed for. I opened a journal the other day and saw an entry that started with a countdown — 341 days left until the beginning of my study leave.

And then when it came, I struggled with the lack of structure. I scheduled things, but with few other fixed commitments (by “fixed” I mean commitments where I was accountable to other people, not just myself), start times slid by, or a morning run got pushed to the afternoon, then to the next day.

Some people are down on routine. It has a hum-drum, ordinary, unexciting quality to it.  But oh, how I love establishing and maintaining that easy tempo that comes from a good routine.

The virtues of routine are touted in all sorts of areas of life. Parents are told to establish a good bedtime routine for their children. Insomniacs are encouraged to do the same.  Writers, meditators, athletes, yogis–all benefit from writing, meditating, training, doing yoga the very first thing in their morning routine.

What I like so much about a regular routine is that it establishes a rhythm to my day and my life.  I don’t need to think, I can just fall into the beat of that rhythm.  A routine at its best is a series of good habits, exercised effortlessly, with little thinking through.

But it’s hard to establish that rhythm in the absence of some structure, at least it was and is for me. It’s like flailing around in the dark or taking the very first arbitrary stab at a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

When I’ve got something solid to work around, things can start to fall into place.  But for me (I’m sure others are better at this), it’s hard to create a good routine from dust. And that’s been my challenge this past year. So I am actually excited about getting back at it.

If I teach at 1:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays (which I’ll be doing), then I need to show up at class. So that’s fixed.  If I’m going to be on time for class and not rush around, then I want to be in my office by 11. If I want to be in my office by 11, then I need to leave the house at 10:15 if I’m walking, 10:40 if I’m cycling.  Assuming I have a morning workout to do, whether it be running or yoga or swimming or strength training, and assuming I want to spend some time at my desk after breakfast and before I leave for the office, the workouts will have to be early in the morning.  I’ve already begun to establish a routine of starting my workout between 6:30 and 7 a.m.

Come fall, I’ll also have my scheduled Iyengar yoga classes on Tuesday mornings at 6:30, my regular hot yoga classes on weekend mornings at 8:30, office hours on campus so my students can drop in to see me, meetings with colleagues and students, all sorts of things that lend structure to my schedule.

It all sounds so… orderly.  Almost as soothing as a stationery store [some will relate to this metaphor right away, others will be bewildered].

But there’s also some mythology around the idea of routine.  Where there is routine, there are things that disrupt it.  With the Tuesday-Thursday teaching schedule, I’ve pretty much decided to make Mondays and Wednesdays my mornings at the Y for resistance training and swimming.  Long weekends and travel will interrupt this plan.

For me, and this is one of the reasons I’ve had a strange year: I get thrown off kilter when my routine is disrupted.  The year of study leave was a big example of that (yes, I realize that it could be a symptom of a larger problem that I had difficulty establishing a routine that could carry me through the whole year!). But a workout missed for travel or a long weekend or illness or injury — this happens all the time.

At my Iyengar yoga studio, we sign up for sessions and commit to the same class each week. But if we miss that class, we have the whole session (usually a few months) to make it up by taking another class at another time. I hardly ever use my make-ups. Why? Because I have difficulty finding another time to go.  Why not instead learn to roll with disruptions a bit better and take advantage of the opportunity to make up for missed classes?

What I mean to say here is that the flip side of routine is flexibility. As in so many things, I seek that elusive happy balance. Right now, after a year of feeling cut loose (sometimes in a good way, sometimes in an uncomfortable way), I’m craving the return to the regular order of things.

[image credit: Rhythm by Monica Stewart]