Month: September 2017

fitness

New job, new fitness challenge? #uoguelph

Sam B

Funny that after all the digital ink split here on the blog about workplace fitness challenges one of my first emails at my new work email address was about a fitness challenge at the University of Guelph.

This year, the University’s Wellness@Work committee has entered a U of G team in the Guelph Family Health Team’s FHT to MOVEHustle for the Harvest two-week activity challenge. From September 22 to October 6, participants from all U of G locations can use the FHT to MOVE online portal to track their daily activity minutes. Any type of activity counts, whether you prefer to rollerblade, practice yoga, garden, or play tennis. The activity challenge helps promote a healthy lifestyle – the major goal of our Wellness@Work committee. This team-based challenge allows you to see your individual results. Share your results publicly or use them as an anonymous personal motivator, while helping our U of G team challenge other organizations. The U of G Wellness@Work team is encouraging everyone to be active for a total of 150 minutes each week – the amount of time recommended by the Canadian Physical Activity Guidelines. Visit www.uoguelph.ca/wellnessatwork/fht-move-activity-challenge for more about this fun and fit challenge and to learn how to register.

But look. It’s just 2 weeks! 14 days not 100 and all activities count, not just swimming, walking/running, and biking. I’m a keener. I signed up. It starts today.

I’ll report back and let you know how it goes.

A diffusion tensor image of a female athlete who has suffered a concussion Women and concussions: what do we know? Not nearly enough.
fitness · health

Women and concussions: what do we know? Not nearly enough.

catherine w6 Comments

Today we have a co-authored blog by Catherine W and Julia F-C.  Julia F-C is a senior at Stuyvesant High School in New York City. She has a background in Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and a passion for feminist theory, sustainability, and plants.

Herewith, our co-authored blog:

Concussions have been in the news lately.  This summer the world of American football was rocked by the release of a study examining 111 brains of deceased NFL (National Football League) players who had conditions including dementia, depression and other behavioral and cognitive disorders.  On autopsy, 110 of the 111 brains were found to have CTE, chronic traumatic encephalopathy.

A recent news story highlighted a study from the same research center that has found that early exposure (before age 12) to football increases the risks twofold or more for cognitive, behavior and affective problems later in life.

 “Hitting your head over and over again in youth seems to lead to later-life problems, even if you only played up through high school or college,” [study author Robert Stern] said.

The research found increased risk was not tied to the number of concussions a player suffered. Translation: Head impacts that aren’t concussions still have serious, long-term effects. That reinforces earlier research.

There’s been pushback from a lot of football stakeholders, including NFL management, fans, and President Donald Trump.

On Friday, Mr. Trump said that the league was losing television viewers in part because it was too focused on safety, including penalizing players for making hard tackles. “They’re ruining the game,” he said.

His comments came a day after scientists announced that Aaron Hernandez, the former Patriots tight end who committed suicide in April, had a severe form of the degenerative brain disease linked to repeated head hits.

Virtually all of the research done on concussions has focused on males, including animal studies.  However, that is changing—research is turning to examining female response to brain injury.

“We classically have always known the male response to brain injury,” says Mark Burns, at Georgetown University. But there have been remarkably few studies of females. The bias runs throughout the scientific literature, even in studies of mice.

“Male mice have been used historically in research and not really been compared to female mice,” he says.

So what have we learned from those female mice?  That there’s a substantive difference in male-vs. female brain response to concussions.  In short, female mice brains respond more slowly and less effectively to brain injury, which may contribute to longer and/or less robust recovery (this last bit is my speculation, but makes sense given the evidence).  The study can be found here.

Studies are now examining humans to look for differences among cohorts of male and female athletes.  Here’s one:

The researchers looked at the medical records of 1,203 athletes who played at Columbia University between 2000 and 2014. (Columbia has collected data about concussion on all its athletes since 2000).

Among male athletes, 17 percent (140/822) had experienced at least one concussion during their collegiate career. Among female athletes, the rate was 23 percent (88/381).

Though women experienced a higher rate of concussion, they recovered and returned to play as quickly as the male athletes.

“Why are women more likely to experience concussion? Is it that they’re physiologically experiencing concussion differently? Are they reporting their concussion in a different manner? This study can’t answer these questions, but it unearths the follow-up questions,” Dr. James Noble says.

Yes—those are some interesting questions, eminently worthy of follow up now.  It’s not a surprise to those of us who follow health research, nor to many of you, our blog readers.

We already know that, for example, women are less likely to be referred for heart-disease-related treatments than men because of the misperception that women are “protected” against cardiovascular disease.  The incidence of heart disease among middle-aged women has increased in the past 20 years, while it has decreased for men of the same age.  You can get all the detail you would ever want from this article.

Back to concussions: this news story discusses a Cleveland Clinic ongoing study of boxers and mixed-martial-arts fighters that includes about 700 men and 60 women.  One of them is MMA fighter Gina “Danger” Mazany.  She describes her first fight below:

“She beat the crap out of me,” Mazany says. “Like she didn’t knock me out, she didn’t finish me. But she just knocked me around for three rounds. And I remember, later that night I was very, very nauseous. I was throwing up that night.”  It was her first concussion.

On the day of Mazany’s annual checkup, she is subjected to a battery of tests that assess her balance, reaction time, memory, and thinking.

After about 40 minutes, Mazany meets with Dr. Charles Bernick, the scientist in charge of the fighters study. They move to a quiet room. Bernick scans a chart. It shows Mazany’s test results over the past few years.

“Well you’re pretty stable,” Bernick says. There’s no obvious sign of trouble from her fighting career, at least not yet.

I talked with some friends who are fighters and coaches for fighting sports about concussions.  Karen Miller Peterson, a black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, has competed and taught and coached, and recently opened a school called North South BJJ in Montclair, NJ with her husband Adam, also a BJJ fighter and teacher.  Karen’s experience with Brazilian Jiu Jitsu suggests that concussions may depend at least in part on style and training:

I think it’s fighting style. Since there’s no striking in jiu jitsu, it just doesn’t happen a lot. Situations it might happen would be in a takedown or throw, which aren’t practiced in academies as much as ground grappling. You can see it happen in competition from time to time. We do sometimes get knocked in the head during training or in a competition, but rarely is it hard enough to cause a concussion. Maybe a broken nose or bruise. It could happen, sure, but because of the style of jiu jitsu it just doesn’t happen like boxing or MMA.

Skill will definitely play into it too. Head injuries in jiu jitsu will happen more often with lower belts/beginners.

I spoke to Cesar Nicolas, a long-time trainer and coach for multiple sports (boxing, BJJ, kids’ soccer, baseball and wrestling) as well as a brown belt fighter and competitor. His primary concern is that sports may inadvertently conceal risks of head injury.  He cites head gear in boxing and MMA– it may seem as if it’s protecting fighters, but it does not actually end up protecting them from significant blows.  As a soccer coach for middle schoolers, Cesar notes that when someone’s head makes contact with a soccer ball, this can cause serious injury.  In one study, researchers found that 1/3 of all concussions among US male high school players and 1/4 of those among female players involved heading the ball.  However, the study did not look at data on younger children.  Cesar’s observations about soccer are in keeping with concerns about football played by younger children.

So how do concussion worries affect what younger women think and do in sports?  For her viewpoint, we turn to my co-blogger, Julia Farach-Colton for some comments.  Here’s Julia…

Being a young woman in a male-dominated sport is always challenging but strangely triumphant. I started Muay Thai (Thai-style kickboxing) when I was about nine years old. As I grew older, I savored the surprised looks I’d get as I sank a hard elbow into a bag that weighed almost three times as much as me but shrank away from curious glances of the men who also practiced in my gym. This is the persistent question of young women in sports, “Are they impressed by my talent or are they impressed by the fact that I’m a girl?”

This brings me to the topic of concussions. One of the main reasons society disregards concussions and injuries among young women is, what I like to call, the “Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice Complex.” Everyone knows the nursery rhyme, comparing what boys and girls are made of. It’s deep-rooted into our culture; little girls are mean verbally and little boys are mean physically. This carries into our view of young women as athletes too: it just isn’t expected that women will play hard enough to get concussions. Think of how long it took for football fans to acknowledge concussions of male athletes!

Although the societal lens doesn’t focus on the safety of young women in sports the correct way, women look out for each other. I can’t count how many times a woman has bailed me out from sparring with a particularly aggressive college dude at Jiu Jitsu. The answer is women supporting women until the rest of the world catches up.

 

martial arts

Savouring A Slow Start

Christine Hennebury

For about ninety percent of the the school year, Tuesdays and Thursdays are reserved for Taekwondo. On those nights, I avoid taking storytelling gigs, I don’t teach writing classes, I don’t do social things – I just head to class and kick. The only real exceptions are emergencies and September.

My three uniforms for this month: my dobok, my festival shirt, and my scarf (a.k.a. my Mom uniform)

September is a tricky month for me, not only is it back-to-school for my kids but my arts organization also hosts a week-long festival. So I’ll end up going back to Taekwondo for a few classes, then having to miss a few for curriculum nights and for festival events, and then I jump back into class.

If it were up to me, I would rather just get started and then stick with the routine (I know what what my brain needs). I used to fight the jumbled nature of this month. I would tie myself in knots trying to do part of a class and still make it to the events or to school stuff. I have gotten over that. I realized that I have to accept what September is like and just roll with it. It’s a lot easier on my brain.

So, I started this month by going to a few classes, even though I knew I would then miss three or four in a row. It was fantastic, even though I forgot a few things and the workout was a challenge.

I don’t know if it’s the same for other sports but, for Taekwondo, no matter how much practice you get on your own, getting back to group work is going to be tough. Doing your patterns surrounded by your peers is a lot harder than taking things at your own pace in your living room or yard. Not only do you have to work at a different speed, you have to avoid getting distracted by the person next to you.

My brain loved it though. You know how it feels when you are struggling to remember something and it is just on the edge of your thoughts? Then you get that great feeling of satisfaction when you finally remember? That’s what it felt like to get in the lines for our patterns. It’s not that I didn’t remember the patterns when I was working on my own at home, but there was a delicious feeling of familiarity to getting back into those lines and starting to move as a group.

The same people were to my right and left, the same people were in the row ahead. I was among like-minded friends. The routine was the same, the movements were familiar, they belonged to me. It had that feeling of being the right thing to do at the right time.

One of the things I have always enjoyed about Taekwondo is that it is just complex enough that I can’t let my mind wander while I participate. I have to focus tightly or I lose track. The sense that I have to leave the outside world behind and just do the thing in front of me is a sort of relief. I can’t multitask and do well in class – it just doesn’t work. Using that type of attention again after summer break was really enjoyable and sort of relaxing.

So, yes, I’m having a slow start, but it has been a good one. I’m enjoying the benefits of the classes I can attend and letting go of any guilt about the ones I cannot. It feels great to be easing back into that specific routine, and I especially like how I am able to observe my own muscle memory serving me well. This is going to be a great year of kicking and punching.

KIYA!

fitness · health · meditation

Float report: Or, Kim tries hydrotherapy

Kim Solga2 Comments

I’ve just moved house, to a new city; it’s been a stressy time. Between the administrative challenges (do not put me on hold again!!), the physical labour (please, please, no more boxes…), and the emotion management required by getting to know a whole new group of neighbours, not to mention where the grocery and pet stores, the post office, the local riding groups, the gyms, and the good coffee shops are…

Let’s just say I spent most of September looking like this:

stress_0

(Image of a male cartoon character with bulging eyes, mouth open, gripping his hair. Stressed out, people!)

Luckily, my new joint – the Hammer, HamOnt, Hamtown, aka Hamilton, ON, the Brooklyn of Toronto – is super cool. My second weekend in town Emma the dog and I attended not one but TWO street festivals, heard some amazing music, ate some excellent food truck delicacies, and wandered the boulevards together. On one of those wanderings we found ourselves checking out booths set up by local businesses. One of those booths represented the Zee Float studio, just a five-minute walk from my new house.

Well, I have to tell you: I beelined for that booth, because I have always wanted to try float therapy. I love massage; I consider it part of my wellness regime (and it’s a huge privilege to have a job that covers part of the cost of semi-regular massage, I know). I love yoga, too, for the way it brings me into my body in a calming way, and encourages me to think about joint health, bone health, flexibility, and quality breathing.

Floating in a warm vat of water laced with Epsom salts has always seemed to me an extension of these kinds of self-care activities.

Yes, I’m mildly claustrophobic, but not so much that I worried about it as I eagerly chatted up the woman at the booth. As she described the facilities at Zee to me (three different kinds of float chambers! Kombucha on tap in the chill-out room!) I got more and more excited. Then she told me about their intro offer: 3 floats over 5 days, so that you can really try the experience fulsomely, and without cost pressure, for a very reasonable CAD$45 total.

Reader, I purchased it.

With both my massage therapist and my favourite yoga teacher back in London, ON, my former city, I reasoned a trio of cheap floats would be a quick way for me to de-stress during a tricky time, plus would give me a chance to see if this is something that will work for my body in the longer term.

So, how did it go, relative to my expectations? Well, it was a bit more complicated than I expected – especially since the point of it all is to relax completely, a task at which I do not excel. That said, by my third float, I knew I’d go back.

Herewith, then: my float report.

I arrived for float #1 a couple of minutes early, knowing there would be orientation. The cheerful and boisterous desk attendant, Hannah, commiserated with me when I said I was a bit nervous, gamely showed me around the whole studio, then carefully explained the entire pre-float procedure to me in my private room (the “Oasis” pod).

oasis_room

(The “Oasis” room at Zee Float: image of a wet room with white walls and a shower in one corner, a wood bench with towels, and a flotation tank with a door opening upward. Picture a shuttle launch from Star Trek.)

The space in which the pod (IE: the float chamber itself) is located is a wet room, with a shower on one side, a bench with pre-float prep items and hooks for personal belongings on the other. The room was bathed in a soft purple light, and looked quite inviting. However, I was nervous to realize that the float pod in the middle of the room looked, from the outside, a bit like a coffin – or perhaps more like one of those little launches that shoot off the back of the Starship Enterprise when crew members go exploring. Either way, it appeared to be pretty small. Hannah assured me, though, that the space inside was larger than a single bed, that the door to the pod did not lock, and that I could keep it open if I wished to feel more secure. The lights in the room, motion-controlled, would eventually turn off, and it would be as dark as I needed inside the pod, even with the chamber door ajar.

I prepped for the float as suggested: I went to the toilet, took a warm (but not hot) shower, covered my cuts with vaseline, inserted the earplugs provided, and got in. Instantly, I realized I hadn’t used the vaseline thoroughly enough; a cut on my arm, and the chafing in my groin (from my bike ride earlier in the day) both stung as my skin hit the salt water. I got out, splashing about as I did… and of course I then got salt in my eyes. Cue another quick shower, more vaseline, and a bit of talking to myself. Calm down! I shouted helpfully. You will be fine! YOU WILL RELAX!

Back in the space launch, I worked on breathing slowly. I turned on the light-up rubber duck to help me feel less panicked in the warm darkness. The glow-duck, however, reminded me how small the chamber was… which, in turn, initiated the following internal monologue:

Gosh this is tight. I bet there’s not a lot of oxygen in here!

Shut up, self. Obviously nobody has asphyxiated in here or they would not be allowed to run the business.

But seriously. How much air can there be?

There’s plenty of air. THERE IS PLENTY OF AIR!

…are we sure, though? Especially if I’m breathing… more and more… rapidly…

I shot out of the thing once more. More splashing. More salt in eyes. This time I used the clear water in the bottle attached to the pod door to rinse my eyes (a third shower, I reasoned, would be both decadent and slightly beyond the pale), and I talked myself down to normal breathing patterns once more.

At this point, I spied the head and shoulder rest Hannah had told me about earlier: it’s a little foam ring that you can use as added support if you’re having trouble getting comfortable in the float chamber. I reasoned it couldn’t hurt, grabbed it, and got back in, determined to make it through the hour.

To my own surprise, the head rest made a big difference. I felt held in the water more fully; I felt my body begin to untangle. I also left the pod door open this time, in order to stop myself from freaking out about the oxygen content. As Hannah promised, the lights in the room went out, and the glow from the duck grew more and more comforting. I drifted, letting my thoughts come and go past me, the way we’re often encouraged to do during Sivasana. I observed how my body was moving. I felt the salt drying on my skin, tasted it on my lips.

I was sad when the music came in, and it was time to get out.

Float #2 went a good deal less well. This was entirely my own fault, because I was hungover. (There is a post in there, about how I use alcohol as a quick route to relaxation far too often these days; look for that post in the next couple of months.)

I was in a different space this time around, the “Pro Float Cabin”, which is at once much larger (no oxygen panic issues this time) and, as a result, a bit cavernous and eerie inside. The male attendant, knowing I’d floated just a couple of days before, didn’t orient me; he simply left me to get on with it. I followed the procedure again, and again I got in – not less trepidatious, but, given the ache in my head, differently so.

I recall the evening before joking how I would test floating’s effect on a hangover; in the cool, dim light of the cabin that seemed a cruel joke on me. I had trouble getting comfortable because the sensation of my body in the water was making me nauseated; I berated myself for letting myself get tipsy the evening prior, and then my heart started to race. Once again, overwhelmed by anxious self-talk, I climbed out of the cabin.

Over the course of this float, due in part to the building nausea and in part to my utter lack of enthusiasm for the enterprise, I got out probably three times, and I took three showers. I found sitting on the wet room floor, outside the float chamber space, easier on my head. I waited and waited for the float to be over – but the music never came in, and the light in the cabin never came on.

Instead what happened was: the pump in the float chamber turned on! It was loud and decidedly not relaxing. Panicked that I’d done something wrong by getting out too many times, I climbed back into the cabin. I sat morosely in the churning water, with the glowing duck swirling past me, judging me.

Eventually I decided I was done; I was getting nothing from the float except more anxious and angry with myself. I dried myself, dressed, and emerged – only to discover that my float had ended when the pump had come on, almost a half hour earlier! I explained that the music hadn’t faded in and I’d had no idea; the attendant and I had a laugh over it, but of course deep down I was utterly ashamed of myself. I’d ruined my own self-care experience with an ill-judged experience of self-harm.

So, of course, I was determined to make float #3 better – and it was. It was blissful, actually. I was in the cabin again, and this time I knew exactly what to expect, what to do and what not to do. I took a proper pre-float shower, vaselined up, grabbed the head rest and the glow duck (bless the duck – I’ve decided to name it Seymour) and climbed in.

I didn’t chill out instantly, but I did chill out pretty fast, relatively speaking, as I was much more secure in my surroundings than ever before. After about 20 minutes I stopped wondering what time it was; at that point, I realized that the size of the float cabin (about twice as big and three times as tall as the pods) meant my arms could move freely, both above and below my body. So I let them float above my head and I started to starfish.

This motion, I realized, mimicked the freedom with which I sleep. (I’m a side-sleeper/flail-abouter.) As my arms traveled over my head my legs opened and closed on their own, too; I started to lose track of where the water began. I gazed up at the blue glow on the chamber ceiling and thought it might be getting on time for the float to end; then I let that thought pass by me, knowing it was really quite lovely just being in the moment, where I was.

images

(Image of a larger float chamber with a side door, not unlike the Pro Float Cabin at Zee Studios, where I floated. The chamber is bathed in blue light, and there are two lights under the water line, and specks of light on the ceiling.)

***

So, what did I learn?

First, floating in the evening was far nicer than the morning float, and not just because of the hangover. Evening means relaxation can be followed by sleep, which is far preferable to the other thing. At least for me.

Second, I learned that judging myself is antithetical to the float experience, and, because I judge myself in my head constantly, challenging myself to let the judgements pass while I’m in the float chamber is a key part of the experience for me. In the cabin, after a while, it became easy; moving past judgement got simpler as my body got more and more comfortable moving in the water. I had to give up some control and let it happen; that’s hard for me but worthwhile.

Finally, floating requires some trust. Yes, the water is clean and the air is ample. No, you will not be forgotten and thus left trapped in the chamber forever. The space is safe; the staff are professional and there is a lock on the wet room door, so you can be secure in your body as you float. Others have prepared a space where you can be vulnerable in your body and let go; being prepared to trust in the integrity of their actions and intentions is a big part of feeling safe enough to relax.

So I’ll go back, for sure. Having completed the initiation immersion I’ve earned a free float, so why not? But more than that, I suspect I can only learn more about myself, and learn to curb some of my least healthy habits, by choosing to float from time to time.

 

 

fitness

Aspiring to be an athlete again (Guest post)

Sam B
by Angie White

So, it’s the last day of my vacation; I’m on my way back to Newfoundland after an awesome 9 days of coming home to Nova Scotia. In the last couple of years, I’ve been coming home in May and September, to the Bluenose and Maritime Race Weekends. Training consistently has been a real challenge the past couple of years (I’ve mostly been a weekend warrior), but by signing up for races, it at least keeps me in the headspace of aspiring to be an athlete again.

This year I did the 5k on Friday night, and the 10k Saturday morning, for a ‘Tartan Twosome’ Awesomely, so did my niece, Christina, who lives in Dartmouth, who is one of the best ambassadors for running I know. She gave me a drive for both races, and we arrived in plenty of time to enjoy the great vibe together at the race site beforehand. Lots of east coast music, pirates, and even highland dancers. As usual, though, when I was getting dressed for the first race, I was wishing I ‘looked’ and felt more like a runner — that I was leaner, my form would be better, that I would be faster, etc.

Then (also as usual) I got to the race, and was super-impressed with everyone else who was there, all rightly being hugely proud of themselves, and enjoying their accomplishment of being there and participating! Immediately, I was brought back to my happy place, and reminded of the reason I continue to run and sign up for races in which I know I have no chance of being competitive: I think everybody else is awesome for their efforts, so how come I don’t think the same about me? I’m a better person for however much running I fit into my life, regardless of whether I turn into the “lean, mean running machine” I dream of being someday. Success before I even started the race! Yay!

The 5k went way better than expected, especially considering I had been battling sinusitis and laryngitis since that Wednesday. The race is an out-and-back that ends on a downhill and comes back in through the Fisherman’s Cove village of shops on the water. The crowds of people cheering everybody on was amazing, as was the live entertainment along the way. Musicians were playing traditional music and cheering on participants, too. The 10k the next day was pretty rough, with more hills and heat, but, also with the help of the crowds and musicians, I finished, and even managed not to beat myself up about having to walk 2 or 3 times. Instead, I’m using it as huge motivation to recommit to running, and see how much I can improve between now and next year! Can’t wait!

But perhaps the best part of both days was reconnecting with friends and family with whom I’ve lost touch over the years. Like Linda, who put the idea in my head when we met in 1999 that I could and should do a marathon with her, and continued to support me through training, even after she had to stop her own because of an injury. She did whatever runs she could with me, checked in with me about training, and had me stay overnight at her place before the Valley Harvest marathon, so that she and her husband could get up ridiculously early and drive me to the marathon from their place in Sackville. Afterwards, they brought me back to theirs, to put me in the jacuzzi with a cold beer in hand. There she was, crossing the Sunset 5k finish line, looking exactly the way I remembered her from nearly two decades ago — amazingly strong and super-fit, and at 60-something!

And Meghan, a friend from school who I hadn’t seen in years, but have gotten huge inspiration and encouragement from through Facebook, following her journey to being the best person she can be by focussing on her fitness, while also being wife, mother to two children, and working full-time.

And I’ve reconnected with my sister, who’s been living away for years now; my sister-in-law, who lives in Nova Scotia, but you know.. life; and Christina; we’ve all committed to doing a Tartan Twosome next year, and supporting each other in our training efforts as we go. And so begins another year of training, and seeing how close I can get to my goals. One thing is for sure though… there’s no shortage of amazing inspiration and role models to be found!

Angie White is a former academic with a PhD in philosophy from Western University. She is from Nova Scotia, and is now enjoying being back on the east coast, living in St. John’s, Newfoundland with her husband and puppy.
fitness

I’m okay with being 53 but it’s hard to believe

Tracy I11 Comments
Image Description: Against a black background, a picture of Tracy, very short blond hair, brown skin, brown eyes, wearing a black sleeveless dress. Her chin resting on hands, showing a tattooed left arm. She is smiling broadly and wearing red earrings, a silver wristwatch, and a small string bracelet with a silver anchor on it.
Photo credit: Ruth Kivilahti (Ruthless Images) Image Description: Against a black background, a picture of Tracy, very short blond hair, brown skin, brown eyes, wearing a black sleeveless dress. Her chin resting on hands, showing a tattooed left arm. She is smiling broadly and wearing red earrings, a silver wristwatch, and a small string bracelet with a silver anchor on it.

My birthday is just around the corner and I’m okay with being about to turn 53. Really, I am. If there is one thing this past five years of blogging has done for me, it’s made me recognize that age is just a number.

On Sunday, I’ll be just one day older than I was the day before. That makes it not much different from any other day, right?

Even though I’m fine with being about to turn 53, I am having difficulty believing I’m about to turn 53. I mean, lately I’ve been talking a lot about the blog’s beginnings, and that was 5 whole years ago when 50 seemed like a big deal (because we weren’t there yet). I think one reason I’m having trouble wrapping my head around 53 is that 50 seems like it was just the other day. But it was three whole years ago.

When we started blogging here we wanted to offer a more inclusive perspective on fitness that didn’t treat aging adults — those who, like us, were entering mid-life or beyond — like a special interest group. Activity and the pursuit of physical fitness and well-being is not simply the purview of youth.

Though our “fittest by 50” challenge was more than just a lark, I don’t think I have quite appreciated until recently what a powerful transformation it created in me. Though I was always active before that, I don’t think I had an especially high level of physical fitness. On the measures of endurance and strength, my 48 year old self couldn’t hold a candle to my 50 year old self. And while I’m not still doing triathlon so it’s difficult for me to compare my conditioning at 50 to where I am now, I feel pretty darn amazing now. I’m more energetic and I’m striking a good balance between my workouts and the rest of my life.

Truth be told, when I was training for triathlon I sometimes had more than 10 different workouts in a week. That’s a lot. I don’t aspire to that anymore. I’m feeling vibrant and energetic. Yes, I’m in a bit of a slump right now because my routine is still trying to re-establish itself. But life is good.

Birthdays usually give me occasion to stop and reflect. Last year, I was still on the fence about triathlon training. I wasn’t keen on the bike and was trying to decide whether to pursue it. This year, I’ve sold both of my fancy bikes and hit pause on the swim training too. The bikes went because I decided there was no reason to continue to torture myself with something I didn’t enjoy. And I’ve taken a hiatus from the pool because, quite frankly, I lost the motivation to get up for 6 a.m. swims.

I can see that my commitment, made in writing in my birthday blog post last September, to develop some self-compassion, has yielded fruit. I said I’d be kinder to myself. Giving up cycling and making a decision to sleep a little longer in the morning are two ways that I’m kinder to myself. Other ways include more time for friends, working with a running coach and a personal trainer, returning to hot yoga, and keeping my training manageable and realistic (an October 10K event instead of a half marathon because my travel schedule would have made training for further more stressful than fun).

The book, Fit at Mid-Life: Our Feminist Fitness Journey, is actually getting real. It’s coming out in April, published by Greystone Books in Vancouver. Sam and I are super-excited, and had a great photo shoot with Ruth Kivilahti from Ruthless Images. Here’s a sneak preview — our favourite pic from the shoot:

Image description: Tracy in a purple running top and sunglasses leans on Sam's shoulder. Sam is wearing a black tank top that says
Image description: Tracy in a purple running top and sunglasses leans on Sam’s shoulder. Sam is wearing a black tank top that says “FEMINIST” on it. Both are wearing sunglasses and smiling. They are outdoors standing in a street with a building in the background. Sam’s bicycle is just visible at the bottom. Photo credit: Ruth Kivilahti

And though it’s turned out that I’ve had to work every birthday weekend for the past few years because it coincides each with the biggest university fair in Ontario, I’m making the most of my weekend in Toronto. On Friday I’m meeting a friend for lunch at Fresh on Spadina (I love that place!) and my nephews and sister-in-law for dinner. Saturday I’m having dinner at my new favourite fancy place, Planta.

For the upcoming year, I’m keeping it modest. My sabbatical starts in less than a year. I’ll be moving aboard the boat next July, with a brief land trip for Burning Man 2018. It will be exciting to spend a year on the water with Renald, writing and swimming (that’s how I picture it, anyway). Between now and then I plan to enjoy my friends, keep up my personal training, running, and yoga, and gear up for the launch of our book in the spring.

I’ve got some exciting travel ahead, including London, England next week, the Bahamas over Christmas, India in February, Vancouver for my step-daughter’s wedding in February, and China sometime shortly into the new year as well.

Basically, being 53 isn’t getting in the way of anything, so for that I feel a great deal of good fortune and immense gratitude.

When it’s your birthday, do you feel okay about another year rolling by?

fitness

Sam’s new big job

Sam B9 Comments

I’m not sure yet what the fitness implications will be but there’s big news afoot here.

I have a big new job. See here.

Come January 1st I’ll be Dean of the College of Arts at the University of Guelph. I went to my first set of meetings recently as Dean-to-be and I joked on Facebook that I should get them used to my ways. Maybe I should park on the edge of town and ride in. I could be all sweaty and dressed in cycling kit!

I didn’t bike in but I have looked at my bike parking options. I’ve asked about bringing my bike into the Dean’s office. I haven’t yet checked out the school’s fitness facilities but I have ordered my standing desk.

I was happy to see that should I ever leave my bike outside there’s covered bike parking.

And I won’t have to walk my bike on campus. And yes, I play nicely with my pedestrians on my bike. I sit up and ride slowly around people who are walking.

Wish me luck. I’m really excited about this move!

The Guelph Gryphon
The Guelph Gryphon!
fitness

Attempting Bathroom Yoga (Guest Post)

elan.paulson6 Comments

I just returned from a fantastic yoga retreat weekend at Camp Queen Elizabeth up in Ontario’s Georgian Bay. I have some lower back/hip flexor muscle tightness (as does virtually everyone who works in an office job), and the time that I spent for a full hour each morning stretching and sending out blessings to the universe gave me a happier body and mind for the rest of the day.

But Monday I awoke NOT meditating at dawn near still waters as I felt the sun rise, but with an alarm buzzing about the day’s meetings, a partner already halfway out the door, and two cats meowing in my face for breakfast.

I have many excuses that prevent me from practicing my ideal version of slow, quiet, and private morning yoga at home. My place is small, and exercise requires moving furniture around. Getting up an hour earlier means going to bed an hour earlier, thus sacrificing other treasured bedtime rituals. Some days there are youths loudly preparing for school in common living areas. Considering these factors, I’ve convinced myself that I don’t have the space and time for morning practice, leading me to deprioritize stretching and meditation as an “inconvenience” in my typical busy life.

(And of course, I am aware that this “typical busy life” is also one of privilege, in which as a middle-class white cis-woman I can ponder the “inconveniences” of stretching and meditation, and have the means to afford a yoga weekend, in the first place. I also recognize the complex issue of cultural appropriation of Eastern belief systems and practices. Though both worthy of discussion, neither are discussed further here.)

So, as I stood in my bathroom the day after yoga camp, trying to calculate how I could incorporate meditation and stretching into all of my busy-ness, in front of the mirror I started focusing on my breathing and rehearsing a few of qi gong I liked the most from my weekend.

While I certainly didn’t recreate the serenity of a yoga weekend, after a few minutes of intentional stretching and breathing I did feel looser and more energized. Then I thought—hey, the bathroom is the first place I go in the morning, and the bathroom is a quiet, private place where I won’t be bothered (not even by cats if I shut the door quickly).

So, I have posted on my vanity a note with a few simple Qi Gong and yoga-inspired stretches and breathing meditations. I shall attempt to practice some morning “bathroom yoga” to see if this is a small but valued shift that I can make in my life.

We’ve seen some good posts on this blog about family yoga, office yoga, and goat yoga. Where and how else can we practice stretching and meditation to fit it into our busy lives?

fitness

Activity and Embarrassment

Tracy I7 Comments
Image description: grey cat on a turquoise yoga mat with one rear leg over ear, grumpy look on his face. Water bottle and people doing yoga in the background.
Image description: grey cat on a turquoise yoga mat with one rear leg over ear, grumpy look on his face. Water bottle and people doing yoga in the background.

 

I’ve never really thought much about embarrassment as a barrier to physical activity, but Kira Bidrim’s “These seven words changed my whole perspective on working out” made me reflect on just how severe a barrier it can be. The seven words that changed her perspective are: “I want to see if you can.”

Embarrassment at taking part in physical activity was number two on a list of obstacles in a 1999 article published in The Physician and Sports Medicine. (Predictably, lack of time was first on the list.) We have blogged before about women who work out on treadmills in sheds because they don’t want to be seen.

And then there is a clothing that a lot of activities seem to demand — body hugging fabrics and styles that anyone who isn’t extremely confident in their skin will feel exposed and uncomfortable wearing. Some say, well, you don’t have to wear those clothes if you don’t want to. But of course, that singles you out in yet another way, since the “fashion” at a gym or a yoga studio or even on a ski hill is a key feature that separates out the newbies from the veterans who “belong” there.  That can lead to another source of embarrassment.

And add all of that to the awkwardness of trying a new activity or entering into an unfamiliar and intimidating space that has its own culture and practices, and of course it makes sense that embarrassment may well set in. This is not to say anyone has a reason to be embarrassed. But it’s not a shock that self-consciousness takes hold in these scenarios.

I don’t experience it much in yoga or at the gym because I’m at home in those worlds and feel as if I belong. But where I find those thoughts can plague me most is in my running, where I sometimes feel embarrassed for not being faster. It’s a fleeting twinge that I only get on occasion, and it’s not keeping me from doing it, but it’s there. Deep down, though I love running, I also feel as if I’m a bit of an imposter because I’m not “fast enough” to think of myself as “a runner.”

Kira Bidrim’s seven revolutionary words — I want to see if you can — came from her personal trainer, “The General.” The perspective of exploring whether you can rather than assuming that you should be able to was all she needed to feel as if she had permission to be a beginner. As she points out, most motivational talk says “You CAN do it.” But what if you can’t?

Taking this into my running, instead of assuring me that I can maintain a 6-minute kilometer pace for any length of time, I can approach it as “I want to see if I can maintain a 6-minute kilometer pace for a whole kilometer.” And maybe next week I can explore whether I can hold it for 1.5K, etc.

It’s a small thing, but the permission not to be able to do the thing before you is a really important part of overcoming embarrassment if you can’t. It’s also quite motivating. Instead of “you can do this” (because, quite honestly, maybe you can’t–like I can’t do full lotus position in yoga), it’s more of a “beginner’s mind” approach to see what you might be able to do (or not).

Subtle, yes. But if it makes a difference and helps address some of that insecurity and sense of embarrassment that holds people back, why not?

If you ever feel embarrassment as a barrier to physical activity, do you think this slight change in approach (to “I want to see if you/I can…”) could make a difference? Do you have other strategies for getting past embarrassment?

fitness

Ride with me next summer!

Sam B2 Comments

It’s 44 weeks and 6 days to the 20th Friends for Life Bike Rally. The Bike Rally is the sustaining fundraiser for the Toronto People With AIDS Foundation (PWA). The funds raised help PWA to fund services for thousands of men, transmen, transwomen, women and children living with HIV/AIDS.

Next year I’ve already decided that I am doing the 1 day ride, from Toronto to Port Hope. For the past four years I’ve done the 6 day ride to Montreal but next year will be a big year for me. Details to follow

I’ve swapped from the 6 day to the 1 day but I’ve raised my fundraising goal. As Stephanie always says, riding your bike from Toronto to Montreal doesn’t help anyone. It’s the money you raise that makes a difference. So I’ve set my sights high and I’m trying to raise $6000.

You can register for the one day ride here and ride with me.

I’ll even post a training plan to get you from riding 5, 10 or 20 km to the full 110 from Toronto to Port Hope.

Don’t want to ride? You can still help. You can sponsor me here.

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Sam arrives in Montreal

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