Throughout my first trimester, I tried to exercise as much as I could despite the fatigue I already mentioned in my post on Saturday. Very early on, I was still able to run really well (so much so that I started doubting I was really pregnant). That changed fast though, by around week 10 I was slowing way down. Right now (17 weeks) I am almost a minute per kilometre slower than I was when I first got pregnant. That might also be due to a nasty cold that knocked me out for two weeks in between, but still. I’m definitely not as fast as I used to be. After yesterday’s run, my Garmin watch kindly informed me I was “overreaching”: doing more in the face of declining fitness. The poor thing doesn’t have a pregnancy mode. Nevertheless, I plod on, especially now that the coronavirus crisis is upon us but the weather is getting nicer. While I can still get out, I do. At the moment, I’m expecting Germany to take lockdown measures similar to France, Italy and Spain before the end of the week, so let’s see how long that lasts. Here’s a picture of the panorama I will be missing once I can no longer run:
A river and a city in the evening light, hills in the background. This is on my “standard” running route when I set off from my house rather than from work. You can probably understand why I’d miss it!
Swimming – as always – worked like a charm during the first trimester. It was actually something that magically made me feel better. I had evening sickness (“morning sickness” is such a misnomer!) and swimming would make that go away. What did happen was that I didn’t go to swim practice a couple of times because I was just too tired. But I could keep going at my usual speed for longer than with running. Only in the past week have I noticed that I’m slower than before, but I can still keep up with the people on my team – I’ve just moved a couple of spots down. (Again, some of that might be due to that pesky cold.) But now, all the pools are closed, so no swimming for me, even though it’s supposedly the best sport for pregnancy, you can do it right up until the end and it works out your entire body. I really hope this passes fast enough so I can get back in the pool quickly. I miss it already.
I also did yoga throughout the first trimester. Towards the end I found I was having to start adapting some poses, like doing child’s pose with my legs spread apart. I was supposed to start a prenatal yoga class on 21 April, let’s see if that happens. I doubt it. Luckily there is a bunch of online prenatal yoga videos on Youtube, so I’ll be working my way through those once I can no longer do non-pregnant people’s yoga (i.e. I’d have to adapt the normal Yoga with Adriene routines so much they stop being fun). Not quite there yet.
I didn’t bike at all during the first trimester, save for a ride to some friends’ house for dinner one night. I was too exhausted to haul my tired butt up the steep hill behind my house for my bike commute. Actually you can see that hill in the picture above. It’s the one in the background, so that gives you an idea of what I’m up against – it’s not all that tall but steep! I started bike commuting again on Monday, and it went surprisingly well. Alas, the campus I work at is shutting down on after today and I won’t be going in anymore, and today I need to drive to haul some things back home from the office for remote work purposes. I’m still hopeful I can get on the bike a few more times before my belly gets in the way…
As you can see, corona is thoroughly thwarting my attempts at getting back into moving more, just like it seems to be impacting everyone’s fitness routines. I’ll need all the pregnancy home workouts I can get! Sam has a 7-point social distancing workout plan, which is pretty awesome. Mine looks simpler: do as much yoga as possible, some TRX workouts, and research home cardio workouts suitable for pregnant people. And: go outside while I can! If you have any advice, I’d be happy to hear it!
HI there, readers– here’s another lighter-side-of-movement reblog for you. This one comes from Cate, who did 108 sun salutations on a Christmas morning. We also have Tracy’s 108 sun salutations from 2017 here: https://fitisafeministissue.com/2017/04/25/108-sun-salutations-oh-my/ Enjoy one or both! -catherine
What’s different this time? We’re inviting you to join us. Read along and put your contributions in the comments. It doesn’t need to be a lot. A few sentences, a few paragraphs, whatever you’re moved to write.
Chapter Two: Getting Hooked
Here’s our thoughts about Chapter Two “Getting Hooked” and we look forward to hearing what you thought about it in the comments section below.
Sam: Chapter One was about the runner’s high and I worried about the language of drugs. Sadly it follows along in Chapter Two with talk of exercise addiction. As you might imagine I don’t like that either. I’m going to try to not engage with that particular framework and make sense of the ideas in the chapter without it. Wish me luck!
I love the story with which the chapter begins. It’s about a study that required people who regularly exercised to give up exercising for 30 days. The problem was that the study couldn’t get off the ground because they had a very hard time finding people who would give up exercising for 30 days. That got me wondering? Would I do that? Obviously not just for the wonders of science and the pursuit of truth. They had to pay people and not just the usual amount they paid study participants. They had to pay people a lot more. During the the study participants complained about not sleeping well and generally enjoying life less.
I wonder, how much would they need to pay me/you to give up exercise for 30 days?
Later in the chapter McGonigal looks at the connection between exercise and pleasure. How does it work? For some exercise is an acquired pleasure. For others, it’s a matter of finding the right activity. For still others, coming to enjoy exercise follows from finding the exercise to which their bodies are suited. We also add meaning to exercise when we connect it to important life events or stages, such as the woman who took up exercise after leaving an abusive relationship. For her, exercise was associated with freedom, autonomy, and liberation.
A final theme of the chapter is the range in human responses to exercise, from those who claim to hate it (we’ve written a lot about that here) to those for whom it’s an all encompassing passion and pursuit. In summary, lots to like in this chapter but I am troubled by all the addiction talk.
Christine: Chapter 2, ‘Getting Hooked’ is an interesting exploration of how physical movement taps into our brain’s reward systems. She spends part of the chapter walking us through all kinds of comparisons that people have made between drug addiction and the desire to exercise, and shows us the ways that the two types of compulsions differ. Her main point in this chapter is to remind us that an internal drive to keep moving is tapping into our brain’s commitment to things that help us survive.
As you probably know, part of my goal in reading these books for Fit is a Feminist Issue is to figure out ways to work WITH my ADHD instead of against it in my goal to be more consistent with my exercise.
In this chapter, I found several discussions and pieces of information that support that goal.
It can take a while for exercise to ‘harness’ our brain’s reward system, and as she says ‘for many, exercise is an acquired pleasure.’
While it is tricky for everyone to do something that doesn’t give immediate reward, for those of us with ADHD, there is an added layer of difficulty. For me, that’s mostly because I have trouble seeing how my actions today will add up to a greater whole. However, the way McGonigal has structured her discussion of how the reward systems respond over time is very useful to me.
McGonigal’s discussion of how aerobics videos and calisthenics gave her the ‘thrill of physical competence’ and gave her access to her body’s ‘intelligence’ tied into my experience of Taekwondo.
Even after 10 years, I find TKD very difficult but very rewarding. I like the type of challenge it is and I like being able to remember the process of learning something that I am now confident in. This section gave me some very satisfying language for discussing my experiences and for seeing how the process of gaining my competence can help me elsewhere.
Exercise expands your capacity for pleasure.
I think last week’s post touched on this point but the discussion here was really useful to me. I appreciated (another) reminder to connect the good experiences that surround my exercise with the exercise itself.
Exercise can have a positive effect on depression and anxiety.
This isn’t news, of course, but her framing of the discussion resonated with me. I especially related to the joy she found in kickboxing because it mirrored my experience with TKD.
This line in particular sticks with me: “I was used to clenching my hands into worried fists but fists feel different when you’re throwing a punch.” When I read that, I actually said ‘Hell yeah, they do.’ aloud. There is a real boost of personal power that comes from turning that sort of habitual action into a controlled and purposeful one.
She says that she thinks that the brain can sense that your exercise is creating wiring for resilience and that it will reward you for that activity. I can’t speak to the science of that but it matches my experience (which means exactly nothing to you, perhaps, but it is useful for me.)
There is a specific basic amount of exercise to do for anxiety benefits
Thanks to my ADHD, I don’t have an accurate sense of how hard I am working. It always feels like I am never doing enough/never working hard enough – I have to override my ‘never enough’ feeling with it with information from people I trust.
McGonigal’s discussion of the reasons that exercise reduces anxiety and the amount of movement to produce the desired results makes sense to me and I will be using her arguments as part of my system to keep developing good habits.
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At the end of this chapter, McGonigal is critical of the tendency to use the language of addiction to describe things that tap into the brain’s reward center. It makes sense to use this language because people are familiar with it but I appreciated her observations here. I think it is very important to ask why we choose to use language that suggests that addictions illustrate the most common activity of the reward system.
I prefer her conclusion that our brains’ reward systems encourage commitment to activities, actions and people that are good for us and that strengthen our important relationships. The fact that drugs are good at tapping into that system shouldn’t suggest that addictive substances are the reason the system exists
Catherine: Attention capture—this really resonates with me. Watching cycling races on TV, I’m moving my feet. Ditto for when I’ve watched Olympic women’s cross country ski racing. I unconsciously emulate being there. And it feels exciting.
McGonigal readily admits that using the language of addiction to explore and promote exercise is worrisome. She says she’s using it to show that our brains can latch onto relationships that are good for us. The thing is, our brains can latch onto all sorts of relationships, including those that are destructive and harmful. I’m not convinced that all this addiction language is either necessary or helpful for us. We shall see.
Exercise pill—this is a topic popular not only among exercise scientists, but also among philosophers. In my applied ethics class, I asked my students, “if you could get the benefits of exercise by taking a pill, would you?” Almost all of them emphatically said no. They thought it was cheating, fraudulent, and not of value to them. Why? Partly because they connect physical activity with self-discipline and virtue (one of the hazards of exposing undergrads to Aristotle—sorry, philosophy joke).
For me, the exercise pill isn’t attractive because I would be denied the experience of exercising. Yes, some amount of the time I’m on my bike is not fun—the first half hour is often a slog, with my whole system complaining mightily. But we all calm down soon enough, and then the experiential adventure begins. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows—I go through the whole range of negative emotions as I’m climbing. But they evaporate as soon as I crest the hill, and I smile, nodding my head with satisfaction.
McGonigal explores the ways sense experiences and sense memories trigger our brain’s pleasure centers (dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine release). Studies have shown that physical activity can help the body maintain reliable and steady levels of e.g. serotonin over time, all with a constant dose response (unlike some drugs, which require increased dosages over time to maintain the same effects).
Genetic markers for physical activity—I was gritting my teeth through this section. First of all, genetics is nowhere near identifying anything close to genetic markers for exercise (I don’t even really know what that means). As McGonigal is a twin, some of the differences she sees with her sister may be epigenetic in nature; that is, it relates to how genes manifest physical (phenotypical) mechanisms and structures. Environment can have a large effect on how these processes work. This is a new and fascinating area of research. For a good non-technical introduction to this, look at Siddhartha Mukherjee’s 2016 New Yorker article, “Same but different”.
I am looking forward to moving past the addiction-metaphor-driven discussion and exploring other aspects of joy in movement. Stay tuned for more next week!
You’ve all heard the case for social distancing and the need to #FlattenTheCurve. Like many people I’ve said goodbye to the gym for now. I’m not going to group yoga classes either. Which is sad because I’ve come to love our local studio’s restorative yoga with live music class. But you don’t have to read too many articles like this to think maybe working out at home is a better idea.
So for the foreseeable future I’m either working out outside or at home. Here are my options:
1. Yoga with Adriene: I like doing yoga at home even though Cheddar likes to take part and often gets in the way. Usually I do Yoga with Adriene so it’s Cheddar and Benji, the yoga dogs. I’ve also downloaded the DownDog yoga app on the advice of a colleague and friend.
2. Indoor cycling: I love Zwift and the Bike Shed is my one concession to exercise not at home. I’m riding my own bike there though and there’s lots of space between the people riding. Mostly it’s just me and Sarah there. This month I’m going to do some more Swarm rides.
3. TRX at home: I love the TRX classes at the university but in lieu of that Sarah is moving her TRX to Guelph and we’re installing an anchor in the ceiling so we can use it here. I’m not sure what app or routine I’ll use. Advice? I do my best work with people talking and telling me what to do. Here’s a list of 44 amazingly, effective TRX exercises.
4. Kettle bell: I used to love the kettle bell routines at CrossFit. I even bought my own but since I was doing classes I didn’t much use it. And then I lost it in the move. Two years later it still hasn’t turned up and so I bought I new one. (I know, now I’ll find the old one.) I’ve downloaded a few kettle bell apps.
5. Dog walking: I can’t walk much these days but I still love walking Cheddar in the woods. There will definitely be some walking in the woods with dogs.
Dogs in the woods: Cheddar and Emilie
6. Outdoor riding. The season is almost here. If I’m outdoors and not near other people, riding is definitely I thing I can do. There are some great tips here: Cycling during coronavirus. (If running is more your thing, here is the running version.)
Here’s our newly regular afternoon reblog of happier/lighter/funner content for your reading respite. Today features Mallory, daughter of Sam (and Jeff!), on winter camping during spring break, with Cheddar the dog. Are any of you thinking about getting away from it all (ahh, what an idea!) in nature, with or without furry friends? Let us know.
I get it. You’re facing down the barrel of your mortality right now, and the mortalities of your parents, grandparents, children and other people you care for. It sucks. Random, horrible things can happen and change your life forever. Or end it. But this isn’t news. Life can change in an instant, and it can be completely out of your control, and that has always been true. The only difference is now you are being forced to face the reality you could comfortably deny as long as your life was banally humming along. Welcome to my world.
At the age of 24 I went from a healthy, active person to someone with a disabling, life-threatening immune condition. Random chance, totally bad luck, threw me a curve ball that kept me in the hospital for a month, left me missing a big chunk of one lung and unable to walk up a flight of stairs without assistance. I spent 8 months on high-dose Prednisone and three years after that on weekly chemotherapy drugs to keep my body from attacking itself and killing me. I hate stories about how some horrible cancer diagnosis “was the best thing that ever happened to her” or how some terrifying ordeal “helped him have gratitude for the important things in life.” I don’t think my immune conditions (I’ve developed more over the years) have made me a wiser, better person. But I have learned from the experience, and I’d like to offer you these potentially comforting observations I’ve noted along the way.
The hardest part is the not knowing. It took about half a year before I had a diagnosis. Even with a diagnosis, the prognosis was up in the air. At one point I was told that I had only a 50% chance of living past 5 years. Later on, I was told they really didn’t know, there was just too little data to base any predictions upon. I believe that knowing is always easier than not knowing. How do you live your life day to day when you can’t plan for the future? You will make very different decisions when you know that something is temporary than when it may be indefinite. Coming to a place of accepting that you don’t know, living in the moment while planning for the future is the best balance I can suggest. For me, I have had to learn over the years to consider my barriers and limitations as flexible unknowns–I have to push against the boundaries to test them–is this a real limitation or simply something I feared would limit me? It’s a constantly moving target, and I’ve learned to be flexible as situations have changed.
Your life is at increased risk. You can get used to it. In fact, if you are going to get on with your life, you have to get used to it. We can only hit the pause button for so long, and then we need to get back into the swing of things. You will need groceries, a paycheck, a new pack of underwear. I live my life every day with the awareness that my condition can come back. Every time I have a cough, I have to consider, “Does this feel more serious than just a cold? Am I being irresponsible if I wait it out before going to the doctor?” Every little aberration in how my body moves and feels carries a heightened awareness to it, and yet, I don’t go around constantly anxious about my future. I notice it, I pay attention, and then I move on. Most of the answers to my questions come with time and patience. If you can avoid insisting on instant reassurance, you will find that you fare better.
Most people facing their own mortality don’t have the benefit of a social circle that understands. Don’t take it for granted. When I got sick, I was alone. Only about 6000 people in the entire United States have been diagnosed with the condition I’m facing. Not to mention, my peers at the time of 20-somethings could not even kind of relate to my ordeal. Lucky for you, pretty much everyone around you is dealing with some version of the same fear right now. You can support each other because you understand your shared uncertainties. On the other hand, you are at higher risk than I was for “social contagion.” The downside of collective awareness is that your anxieties can compound upon each other, fear can beget more fear, and as social animals, we are built to mirror each other’s emotions. Compassion and empathy are important, but I encourage you to temper them with calm and mindful acts of support.
It isn’t helpful to let the current situation dominate your thoughts. Practice the discipline of reframing your thinking, and you will experience less stress. This would be an excellent time to limit your exposure to social media, too. You don’t need other people’s fear speaking voices in your head. For those of you who like that woo-woo shit, feel free to increase your focus on your “gratitude practice” right now. Me, I’m going to limit my exposure to the news and increase work on some neglected projects around the house. This seems like an excellent time to begin planning my basement remodel. This sort of intentional shift of focus gives me something productive to put my energies towards rather than stirring up fears of the unknown.
On a related note, don’t let fear be your guiding principal. Consider making important decisions when your mind is feeling more calm–like right after a good meal with some satisfying, slow-digesting carbohydrates in it. Your fear-based decision might be making people like me less safe, if it means you switch to antibacterial soap, for example, and increase the likelihood of superbugs. The panic that has led to emptying store shelves isn’t doing the community any good, either. Consider finding other ways to take care of yourself than giving in to the hedonic needs of your fear.
If someone near you gets sick, when it is safe to do so, literally embrace them and return them back into your life. I developed mysterious lung symptoms and a persistent, low grade fever just about the same time SARS was in all the news. When I was released from the hospital, we didn’t know why I had nearly died, but we did know it wasn’t an infectious process. Despite this, I was treated like a pariah. No one would hug me, hold my hand, pat my shoulder. People would literally take a step back when I told them what had happened to me. It was like they were afraid that my near-death would rub off on them. It was exceptionally isolating in an experience that already left me alone in so many ways. So I ask that you please, please, welcome back the folks who become sick. Love and support them, touch their hands, kiss them on the cheek, and help to reintegrate them back into your world.
You don’t know what’s going to get you. That’s always been true, you’re just now having to face it. I used to feel like I knew better than most people what was likely to kill me. However, even when my condition was quite severe, I still could get hit by the proverbial bus. That hasn’t changed, and it’s true for all of us. None of us know what is going to get us in the end. We can’t live our lives dancing around the edges, hoping nothing will ever take us down. We have to live the best life we can with the life we’ve been given. Uncertainty will always be a part of the equation. Part of making the best of it is keeping that in mind and keeping it in perspective. That’s how I live my life every day, and I encourage you to do the same.
Marjorie Hundtoft is a middle school science and health teacher. She can be found picking up heavy things and putting them down again, and wondering when the gym will be closed, in Portland, Oregon. You can now read her at Progressive-Strength.com .
For those of you who are looking for some lighter reading, we’re reblogging some of our favorite posts about the fun things we all do. Here’s one on body painting. It’s a good thought…
This week has marked a shift from business as almost-usual to an awareness of the need to shut down our social and work life to reduce transmission of the coronavirus. From school to church to local museums to yoga studios, I’ve gotten a series of emails, culminating in a flurry of Friday afternoon messages:
We’re closing for the time being.
We care about all of us, which is why we’re closing.
Here are some ways to stay in touch with us and what we do together.
It may strike you as odd, but I am warmed by these messages. Businesses large and small, and institutions of all sorts– educational, religious, governmental, etc.– are taking steps to promote the common good. Yes, the reasons for closure vary, and not all motivations are noble. But it is happening, and that is good.
Friday night I went to the last yoga class at Artemis, my local yoga studio, before they closed for awhile. My friend Norah met me there. We brought our own mats, blocks, bolsters, blankets, straps– the works. There were about 8 or so students in a large studio, so there was plenty of room. Liz R, my favorite yoga instructor of all time, helped us get spread out.
The Friday night class is a special one. Liz R greets us gently and cheerfully, inviting us to settle into the transition from the work week to the weekend. Her restorative class begins with gentle movement (partial sun salutations, twists, some balances, some easy stretches), in preparation for a nice, satisfying yoga nidra. We make ourselves comfortable on our mats for the next 20–25 minutes while she takes us through a body scan and mindfulness narrative. I like to put my legs up the wall with my butt on a bolster, which is super-relaxing (to me, YMMV). Invariably, someone falls asleep (it is Friday night, after all), and we’re aware of (hopefully) gentle snoring off in the background.
This Friday, Liz R did not pummel us with information or warnings, or in fact say much at all. She just greeted each person and offered verbal help to get them set up so everyone felt comfortable. And we did. I don’t think I’ve ever relaxed more in a yoga class. It wasn’t that I forgot about my worries and uncertainty. It wasn’t that I become more reassured or confident about the duration or intensity of the outbreak. I just sunk into being there, at that moment, feeling the comfort of others and the sound of Liz’s voice, moving us through postures and then guiding us through yoga nidra. She’s planning on recording it and posting it on the Artemis website. It’s not up yet, but should be sometime this week (I’ll post an update in the comments when it’s there).
When class was over, we quietly rolled up our mats and gathered our things. Liz said, “I won’t see you next Friday night, but hope to see you all some Friday night soon”. Yes, that’s what we know, and that’s how we feel.
I do a lot of yoga at home, but I will really miss that Friday night class. I’ll miss all my group in-person yoga classes and other group physical activities, too. Can I safely take a walk in the woods with another person? Maybe so, we’ll see. What about yoga at my house with one other person (in a good-sized space)? Again, we don’t know.
For now, I’m practicing at home, walking in the woods, being in the moment, and taking it day by day.
Dear readers, what are you doing at home or in your neighborhoods, with gyms and yoga studios and other places closing? I’d love to hear from you. And I’ll post Liz’s yoga nidra in the comments when it comes out.
Woman sitting on her mat, twisting to the side.
Woman walking in the woods, dog following her (not in a bad way).
Like many people, I’m frantically preparing for at home exercise. Well, except for riding which I’ll still do outdoors, alone. I’m going to post about the plan but I’ll do that Tuesday when it’s my regular day to post.
Today though I just want to sing the praises of Power Tube Plus and tell you about my pleasant surprise. It’s not just that they have black models though that was a pleasant surprise too it wasn’t the biggest one.
Sarah and I were in the sports store, buying a kettle bell for at home kettle bell workouts, when we decide to browse the other at home exercise options. We already have a TRX and we’re drilling a TRX hook into the living room ceiling this weekend. But I’ve liked using power tubes in the Playground circuit fitness class at the university gym.
I looked at the shelf and guessed about which one would be the easier one. and I even joked to Sarah, in advance of checking, that it was another case of gender stereotyping because of course the box with the woman on it would be the power tube with less tension.
But guess what, Fit is a Feminist Issue readers? IT WAS NOT! Really, the box with the woman on it was the cable with more tension that’s harder to use. 4 is more tension than 3. I kept smiling all the way to cash register and I bought the box with the fit woman on the front even though it may in fact turn out to be too hard for me to use. (Ignore that folly. There are other people in my house. It will be used.)
I find as a feminist interacting with the world that there aren’t that many times that the world pleasantly surprises me. This was one. Mini-rejoice in an otherwise brutally tough week of work.
Last month, I blogged about my February slump. It’s true that I always find it harder to motivate myself towards the end of winter than at the beginning, but this year I had an added difficulty that I didn’t mention in my post because it was still early days: I’m currently 16 weeks pregnant, meaning that in February I was in the middle of first trimester fatigue. I. Have. Never. Been. So. Tired. In. My. Life. (Anyone who is tempted to counter this with an “ooooh, it’s going to get so much worse once the baby is here!”, please refrain in the interest of my sanity.)
As a result, I’m now so far behind on the 220 in 2020 challenge that even if I kick things up more than a notch, I likely still won’t make it to 220 this year. Because come the end of August (due date: 30 August) and probably even before that, I probably won’t be doing much exercising for quite some time. I’ll keep reassessing what exercise means to me as I get further along and of course after I give birth, and I firmly plan on doing things, but I’m also not going to push myself beyond my limits. If I need a night on the sofa rather than in the pool, I’m going to give myself that.
While exercising has been tough, it also hasn’t been non-existent. I stopped bouldering essentially as soon as I knew I was pregnant. I went once in early January only to find that I was scared of falling the entire time I was on the wall. A lot of people boulder at least through their first trimester and possibly longer, but not me. I don’t want to climb in constant fear. But I am still swimming with my team, albeit a little slower than before. I’ve been running as well (much slower than before), and I’ve been doing yoga. I’ll report a little more on how these have been going in my post next Wednesday! In April, I’m starting a prenatal yoga class. I want to keep all of that up for as long as I possibly can. As I move into the second trimester, I’m hoping to get some of my energy back and also still be able to do most movements. So far, so good!
Also, I’m ridiculously thrilled and terrified in equal measure to become a parent. We are having a son, and we plan to raise a strong, fit feminist.
I would be excited to hear about your experience with working out while pregnant! Feel free to share in the comments.
