image description: Selfie of two women, Violetta in front, long dark hair with highlights, smiling, white t-shirt; Tracy in back, smiling, with sunglasses, medium length salt and pepper hair, red and black top, black coat, camera strap visible; field and trees in background. (we had just finished a two-hour physically distanced hike with others). Photo credit: Violetta.
The other day I didn’t have the energy for a run, so I checked in with my out-of-town running buddy, Violetta, and said I might “just” do some yoga or “just” go for a walk. She said she’d been feeling the same that day, but that she wanted to stop putting “just” in front of these choices, as if they are somehow lesser, inferior, or slack options that we need to apologize for. I agree. Indeed, I even thought it as I was texting the “just yoga” message.
I know I’m not the only person who imposes conditions on the types of activity that it’s “okay” to count. I’ve blogged about this before (see “What counts?” and “More than six years later and Tracy has the same questions about what counts”). And it has come up again and again during the “220 in 2020” group. That’s a group where we keep track of our workouts with the goal of doing 220 by December 31, 2020. Next year the goal will be 2021. Today I logged my 408th workout of the year. I have fewer questions about what counts.
2020 is the year where movement has become a part of my daily routine. Almost every day I do something intentional, whether yoga, a zoom weight training session, a run, a walk, a hike. And sometimes the very goal of daily movement is what gets me moving. It used to be the 220 in 2020 but I’ve long since surpassed 220, so the goal had to shift away from a total number and more to “something every day,” away from outcome and towards process or maybe a habit checklist type of approach. Workout? Check!
Just because some of what we do is different in level of exertion or the amount of time we spend on it from some of the other things we doesn’t mean it’s less than. During the pandemic more than ever it’s become important to me (and I know I’m not alone in this) to be intentional about movement because some days, if I wasn’t, I probably wouldn’t even reach 1000 steps. I go from my bedroom to the kitchen to my home office to the kitchen again all day. At night I sit down to read or watch something. And then I go to bed. I go out much less than I used to. Because it requires choice, I’m at the point where intentional physical activity that I wouldn’t otherwise choose to do “counts.”
Even as I say that I am aware that there is a level of self-shaming that so many of us engage in when we compare. And it’s not always when I compare myself to others who I regard as more fit, stronger, faster, more active, or more committed to what they do. It’s also when I compare what I did yesterday in my one hour sweaty, kick-butt Superhero workout to what I did today (a 3K run and some gentle yoga). They’re all workouts. They all count. I’m not cheating when I track them.
It’s interesting to me to look back on my angst over the years about what counts because I don’t feel that anymore. I have a solid sense of confidence that I get to decide on my own criteria, and that it doesn’t make sense for me to think that every workout has to be equal to every other workout in its demandingness for it to legitimately count.
And it’s also okay, even necessary, at least sometimes to choose rest. That’s a healthy choice, too (even if it doesn’t count as a workout).
Do you consciously or unconsciously rank certain activities as superior or inferior to others? Do you discount some of your workouts because they’re not “demanding enough?”
[Shout-out to Violetta: Happy birthday, my friend!]
Nat’s Saturday post from a few weeks ago outlines low, medium, and all out costs for Zwifting and explains why she and her sweetie/life partner Michel made the choices they made. In light of Nat’s post and in the interests of full disclosure, I thought I’d share the details of my home set up and why we made the choices we made.
We’re in the middle of the road group here with a wheel on wahoo kickr snap. We bought it from the Bike Shed where we used to go and ride on Zwift. I had a monthly membership, $100 a month for unlimited riding. A perk of the monthly membership was that I could leave my trainer bike there. But when COVID-19 hit, they had to close. I asked about borrowing a trainer and eventually bought it when the likely length of the pandemic started to dawn on me.
We run Zwift on an iPad which we hook up to a giant TV. Other expenses? A giant honking fan!
The downside of our set up is we can’t ride and race at the same time. I’d love a direct drive set up–wheel off rather than wheel on– except it’s a lot more work swapping bikes. Right now this is a pretty good set up for us and the trainer is used most days for a couple of hours a day between Sarah and me. We leave everything set up and ready to go.
We’re both racing so we need a smart trainer that measures power. What I love about the smart trainer is that it mimics the feel of hills and you need to shift. It gets easier, by feel, when you’re drafting.
Also, another expense, if you don’t already have this from outdoor cycling is a heart rate monitor and way of connecting that to the app. Some of this isn’t necessary for riding on Zwift but it is for racing. See my tips here including joining ZwiftPower which is the official results site for Zwift races.
We both have second best road bikes that we use on the trainer. When not in use they hang on the wall.
My dream set up would be the kickr bike but at $3500 US, I’m not there yet. Frankly we might never get there but I can dream.
The cool thing about it would be that it’s easy to adjust between two riders.
Decision fatigue is real. The New York Times did a piece about it in 2011. While their focus was on the time of day judges made their decisions, the concept applies to us all. Overscheduled, overprogrammed, burdened with managing emotional labour, and juggling multiple roles and demands, we come to a place where we cannot decide One.More.Thing.
Faced with a hydra of a to-do list, we poke at one thing, peek at another, and before you know it, the day is done and you aren’t sure what’s happened.
If you are being plagued with decision fatigue and task overwhelm, pick one thing. It doesn’t matter which one it is, just pick one. Maybe you poke randomly at your list with your eyes closed. Maybe you ask your friend to text you a number between one and ten, and you do the item the number corresponds to. As a quilter I follow says, done is better than perfect.
Image shows a tiny potato. Text reads: I am a tiny potato and I believe in you. You can do the thing.
I remember when I first saw a child throw a full, no holds-barred tantrum. It was pretty stressful on the parent, but after the child was done, all their frustration was gone, and they were limp with exhaustion.
Image shows a small child on the ground wailing while flailing their arms and legs.
During the early days of the pandemic, things were very stressful. We had daily updates with rapidly escalating numbers and new behaviours to practice, accompanied by lockdowns and guidelines. I had a conversation then about my anxiety and frustration with Cate (FieldPoppy), a regular contributor to this blog. She gave me great advice: get up and stomp around.
I did and it was very satisfying. It didn’t solve the world crisis but it certainly helped me let go of stress. As I learned, stomping offers adults a physically positive way to deal with frustration while also releasing negative energy. These days I often stomp around just for the fun of it.
If you aren’t sure if stomping is for you, try a few jumping jacks, march hard in place for a minute, or weed or rake leaves fiercely. Other options are to shake your arms and hands energetically as if you are trying to fly or kick your feet as if you are playing soccer from your chair. Whatever you do, recognize negative energy will weigh you down and a short burst of fierceness will lighten that load.
Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt on Pexels.com Image shows a red heart balloon floating upward in a blue sky.
I like to run up hills, but not down them. Running hills is one of the activities regularly included in our park workouts. Running up a hill I feel confident. My legs are strong. My lungs are capable. Walking down or running down, particularly if the grass is a bit wet and slippery, the questioning part of my brain kicks in and takes over. Often I’ll start walking down a steep hill and my brain sends signals to my legs to go VERY slow. Or just stop. To hell with pride and go down crab walk style. Or avoid the hill, even though I enjoy running up. That’s a loss. Not running up the hill.
On occasion, I have avoided the hill all together, because I feel awkward about my downhill issue. But, more often than not, I start off tentative, but I try. This results in me walking down slowly at first and then when I find my footing, going quickly, where it’s less steep. Once I’ve managed to do this, I can run up the hill. And, the run up the hill feels that much sweeter. It may seem like a little thing, but it’s a small win.
Also, I always “leaned into my heels” when going down the hill and on a slight sideways angle, thinking this would be more stable, but last week, once I got more comfortable, I realized I felt more sturdy if I put my weight more “mid-front” than towards my heels. A little learning exercise for my brain, not just my body.
Small wins are great at any time, but especially these days.
What about other small wins I’ve experienced lately?
Some days I wake up and feel inexplicably sad. Or tense or reactive. More sensitive to things I shouldn’t be. Perhaps, that day, I seem to care more about whether people are hearing me or respecting me. Or if they like me. Even if I know I’m not supposed to care (I thought 40 was a magic “I don’t care” threshold?). Do we ever really not care? I haven’t reached that level of evolution yet. Regardless, I’m not sure why I wake up that way. Not sure it matters if it’s chemical or hormonal or just a normal product of existence. We can’t experience the highs if we don’t experience the lows.
I can also be my biggest critic about my moods. I know how to navigate them carefully. How to give myself movement. Or more room to react to others when necessary. But, I will often question myself about why I feel that way. What right do I have to feel that way? I am SO lucky. I am healthy. In love. Seen by my partner and respected. My work is not a toxic environment, which has not always been the case. I live in a great place (both MY place and the city in which I live) and so many other things for which I am grateful.
But it’s a small win when I can let myself just be and accept that it’s OK to have our own emotions to deal with. Even when the world seems to be in so much pain. Even when people are sick. Even when we miss people we haven’t seen in awhile, either because they are no longer here or because we are not able to see them.
I am not a religious person. But lately, I’ve been following a very progressive rabbi on Twitter, who I love, Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg. I find her tweets very informative, educated, and sometimes, simply what I need to hear at the time. For example, this recent simple tweet (which doesn’t do her more informative tweets justice):
Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg@TheRaDR: “Hey, we’re still in the middle of an ongoing mass trauma (or, well, several of them at the same time.) If you’re not OK… well, that makes sense. Be gentle with yourself, will you?”
A good, simple reminder for everyone.
I am very grateful for living in a time and space that allows me to feel my emotions safely and patiently. And that I’m able to keep them in perspective.
Another small win is the wisdom to know I shouldn’t care about the fucking frown in my forehead. I can’t help that there is part of me that doesn’t like it. That wonders if it makes me look tired or angry when I’m not. But I also know it’s not a fucking frown. It’s a sign that I’m alive. Ageing. But alive. And it doesn’t affect anything other than, occasionally, my ego. I think that’s a small win that I recognize that.
What small wins have you experienced lately? In fitness, mindfulness, or otherwise?
Nicole P. lives in Toronto with her husband and two dogs, loves fitness, food and small wins.
When I first learned to run, we were all encouraged to warm up and cool down with a few stretches. I’ve kept that habit, and not just for fitness. I find it helps me get focused before I start work. It doesn’t really matter what sort you do: it’s a gentle movement that gives you a beginning and end to activities. For example, I frequently use the Pomodoro technique to write in chunks. When I get my five-minute break, I take one of those moments to stretch my fingers and then wiggle them.
Image shows a cat stretching its toes.
This article by Kate Bratskelr talks about how stretching can help your mental health. She quotes Kelvin Gary, a fitness expert, who says “Stretching can keep you balanced. (…) (It) can help you keep better posture and alignment in your spine. It helps you feel physically better, which, in turn, keeps you from getting into a degraded mental space.”
Bratskelr also talks about how different kinds of stretches help the mind and body connect, and there are links and examples of good stretches to try. Here’s a link to a another guide for three uncomplicated poses: cow stretch, cat stretch and side angle.
Recently I did a workshop on energizers: my favourite is to spacewalk like an astronaut. It’s surprisingly effective and loads of fun. The slow movements help you to lengthen your muscles that may have gotten tight while sitting and the emphasis on slow movements reminds you not to rush. Go on now, have a stretch and reconnect.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com Image shows astronaut spacewalking.
It’s probably best not to ask me what kind of fragrances I like, unless you have a spare hour and some open real estate on your wrists. I am what we in the community affectionately refer to as a perfumista, an appellation used in a genderless fashion to describe someone who has been drawn down into the fascinating world of perfume and personal fragrance. The fragrances I like, the ones that I love and really make me swoon, take me on a journey, transport me somewhere wonderful or intriguing, or evoke strong emotions and personal connections. Fragrances have the power to lift me up, help me focus, ground me in the moment, and energize. As such, it is a tool I happily use to enliven my workouts, help me push through or to get started. Here are some of my favorite fragrance and fitness pairings.
Photo description: The author’s personal bottles of Eau des Baux, Parfum Sacre, Chanel Bois des Iles, and Champagne de Bois.
For contemplation, mindfulness, and activities that have you focusing inward like yoga or mind-muscle hypertrophy training: consider woody and/or incense fragrances.
A wonderful exemplar in this category is Chanel Bois des Iles. Chanel fragrances have an austere, contained feeling to them. They may be noticeable, but they still feel restrained even when their sillage is blooming. (Sillage is the “throw” of a fragrance, to what degree it can be detected at a distance from the body.) Bois des Iles is a rich sandalwood fragrance, but this isn’t a dirty, essential oils, body odor and natural fibers kind of sandalwood. Instead, it’s a carefully tended sandalwood jewelry box, sanded down so all the sharp edges are rounded and elegant. (Other wonderful, woody scents to consider include the affordable, spicy cedar L’Occitane Eau des Baux, and the sparkling Sonoma Scent Studios Champagne de Bois.)
If smoky incense is more your contemplative style, Caron Parfum Sacre is a classic of the genre, although perhaps more high holidays church service than meditative ashram. Parfum Sacre is a very dry, almost ashy incense layered with just enough rose to soften the edges. This is an introverted scent, dark enough to almost be brooding, but melancholy rather than self-pitying. If you want your incense to be a bit less Gothic in character, try Etro Shaal Nur.
Photo description: Bottles of Chanel Egoiste, Fico di Amalfi, Gris Clair, and Guerlain Vetiver.
For fragrances that energize you and help you get pumped to push hard, classic colognes or vetiver-based scents may be more your style.
For a perfumista, the word cologne has a few meanings. It can mean a scent is an eau de cologne, suggesting that there is a lower concentration of fragrant oils in the mix, or it can mean it has certain fragrance notes that many of us associate with “sporty” and/or “masculine” scents. I could go on quite the tangent here about gender norms and fragrance, and perhaps some day I will do that, but for today let it suffice that a true perfumista does not pay attention to these categories and assumptions except inasmuch as they help us communicate what we are experiencing as we consider a fragrance. Both uses of the term “cologne” can be useful when searching out energizing, “clean” scents.
A wonderful example of the category is Acqua Di Parma Blu Mediterraneo Fico di Amalfi. “Fico” means fig, and Fico di Amalfi is all fig and citrus, a bright and cheerful fruit combination that avoids being candied. Fig scents can vary from green and bitter to smooth and coconutty. The fig in Fico di Amalfi stays on the greener end, grounding the cheerful citrus (mostly grapefruit and lemon to my nose), and outlasting it to give a sharp, crisp hum of scent that will last through your workout, but not long afterwards. (Other fresh scents to consider include the herbal sandalwood of Chanel Egoiste and the dusty, summer lavendar of Serge Lutens Gris Clair.)
I am not a big fan of vetiver scents, as the note can go from grassy (which I like) to muddy and mushy, like a week’s old pile of wet grass clippings (which I don’t like). The one vetiver I own is Guerlain Vetiver, which stays on the strictly clean, soapy end of the grass spectrum. However, several perfumista friends have commented that they love the note while exercising, with Prada Infusion de Vetiver being a safe choice if you want to avoid much sillage in a studio, and Frederic Malle Vetiver Extraordinaire as a more complex offering.
Photo description: Amouage Memoir, Tauer PHI, and Lys 41.
Up to this point, I have been suggesting fairly “safe” options, fragrances that are relatively easy to come by and easy to enjoy. However, in true perfumista fashion, I would love to draw you down into the art of fragrance with some unusual and wonderful scents that will push your comfort zone and have you reconsidering what a fragrance can do. Wear these scents for long hikes, or while working out at home, or when you aren’t concerned about whether or not your personal fragrance plays well with others.
Amouage Memoir is usually classified as an incense and leather scent, but I also get warm spices, boozy, fruity tannins, and luscious vanilla. Memoir changes over time and it has enough sillage for you to notice it again and again as it morphs from top notes (what you smell initially), to heart notes, and base notes (what lingers at the end). It stays present and beautiful and interesting for hours, and if you’re lucky enough to get some on your scarf or coat collar, you can enjoy it for even longer. It stays on fabric for weeks. I would pair Memoir with an extra long walk through my neighborhood, especially on a sunny, crisp day.
Tauer Phi: Une Rose de Khandahar is a jammy apricot and rose fragrance, thick and luscious like the best homemade preserves. The base of this fragrance will feel familiar to any Tauer fragrance fans, a heady mix of amber, soft spices, and tobacco leaf. At first spritz, I am nearly overwhelmed by the camphorous fruit, which shoots up and slightly sears my nasal passages, but nearly as fast as I notice this effect, it begins to settle and warm into apricot, cinnamon, and rose. This is not a light, “pink,” thin rose, but rather something so luscious and full, it’s almost like eating a rose bloom rather than smelling it. Like Memoir, Phi stays interesting and changes for several hours. Not quite as long-lasting as Memoir, it has more sillage, and I rarely spritz more than a couple sprays so as to not overwhelm my senses. I would pair Phi with an active day around the house, where half of my steps come from chores before eventually heading out for my daily stroll or lifting session.
Le Labo Lys 41 will be the lightest offering I will invite you to try in this section. It’s a sunny, buttery tuberose scent (even though it’s named “lily,” as that only references which ingredient is in highest quantities, not which note is most dominant). Tuberose is a note that I took a while to appreciate. It can be very sweet and hard to miss, like the first sopranos in a choir. Lys 41 begins to my nose with tuberose front and center, and then slowly morphs into something beachy, with tiare, lily and jasmine. It stays bright and floral all the way through, settling close to the skin but occasionally blooming and making its presence known. I would pair Lys 41 with a higher energy workout, something that gets the heart pumping and warms the skin. (Although if you really want to play, get a sample of Frederic Malle Carnal Flower and be ready to have strong feelings about tuberose!)
I could go on. There are so many wonderful fragrances to explore. It is an artform worthy of our time, like revisiting a great opera or symphony again and again–each experience shows us new nuances and interplay we may have missed in the past, a new appreciation and new associations to give it meaning. I welcome you to explore this beautiful tool to enliven and enrich your fitness practice, too!
Any fellow perfumistas out there? Feel free to drop a howdy and a fitness and fragrance pairing in the comments!
Marjorie Hundtoft is a middle school science and health teacher. She can be found smelling fantastic, picking up heavy things and putting them down again in Portland, Oregon. You can now read her at Progressive-Strength.com .
Photo description: two very full shelves inside the author’s “perfume cabinet.” Over 50 bottles can be seen.
Years ago, a friend told me she had breast cancer. The prognosis was good, but she was worried about the changes this would bring to her body. I can’t remember what she said next exactly, but it sparked a series of the best ever, most awful puns involving the word breast and its synonyms. Well, we laughed and laughed until we cried, and then we cried and cried until we laughed again.
Image shows actress Lucille Ball laughing and crying.
It was cathartic and exhausting, and we felt better after we pulled ourselves together. It reminded me of an article I had read about Norman Cousins when he was diagnosed with a chronic illness. He did all kinds of treatments per his medical team, but he added a daily comedy film after reading about researcher Hans Selye’s work on stress and its impact on the body. Cousins thought if stress could cause harm, then eliminating stress by laughing should do good. It did wonders for his well-being and also provided his body with healing doses of endorphins.
A British survey in 2014 found adults laugh six times a day compared to children who laugh an average of 400 times a day. I wonder if we tripled our laugh quotient as adults, how much more would that add to our day? I’m off to find out. But for now, enjoy this little gem that always brings a smile to my face: Pretty Big Dig.
