I'll admit it: I am the queen of "15 more minutes." As it turns out, that could be hurting me more than helping, when it comes to my sleep patterns. The amount of sleep that you get is important. It's a fine balance between not enough and too much. So you would think that if you wake up tired, and hit the snooze button, you'd be doing yourself a favour. You'd be wrong.

The National Sleep Foundation defines sleep inertia as "the feeling of grogginess and disorientation that can come from awakening from a deep sleep." It slows down your decision-making abilities, impairs your memory and hurts your general performance once you do get out of bed. The impact can be felt throughout the entire day. You throw off your whole circadian rhythm when you interrupt your sleep cycle, because you re-set it and start over when you hit snooze or when you re-set your alarm. Do this enough times on a regular basis, and you're not just making yourself dumber through the day, you are putting yourself into sleep debt. Chronic sleep deprivation. And THAT correlates to a higher body mass index (ie: makes ya fatter).

When I'm in a consistent routine of waking up early, it's the easiest to just get out of bed. Even when I'm still sleepy and groggy. Last summer, when most of my workouts or classes were in the mornings (early, early mornings), I got myself into the best routine I've had for years. Wake up, hop out of bed, never look back.

Lately, I've reverted to more after-work classes at the gym, leaving my early mornings open. While I've tried to maintain the habit of getting up at the same time, what I inevitably end up doing is re-setting the alarm. Negotiating with myself. The list of things I was going to do in the morning? Meh. Can wait. Always seems less pressing in the wee hours than it did the night before. And so I go back to sleep. Again and again.

The problem with this method is that it interrupts the regular sleep cycle. The boys at ASAP Science explain it well in this video. (And, shout-out here to former camp staff Greg Brown, who is the illustrator of these videos. While I'm terribly proud of him for the success of ASAP, I can't help but picture the young camper I watched grow up, when I see these. Thank goodness he grew into one smart dude. You can trust the science.)

I don't use the snooze button - I don't trust it. Instead, I actually re-set the alarm for another time. Sometimes it's 15 minutes. Sometimes longer. I totally do the backwards math of "if I have to be at work at this time, I have to leave the house at that time, so I have to shower before this time..." And no matter what I decide the night before, especially when I'm feeling all responsible and like "of course I'll have the energy to get up and put in a full day's work before I leave the house" I really never do.

At some point I should just acknowledge that I'm probably going to go back to sleep, and set my alarm accordingly, so that I am waking up at the time that I intend to get up.

Starting this week, four of five weekdays will be early-ish workout mornings. It's only Tuesday evenings that are the consistent class time at the gym. Which is why, this morning, I set the alarm for 5:45 am ... and then again for 6:15 am ... and then again for 6:50 am ... and finally got out of bed and got going well after 7:15. Best intentions, and all. Didn't help having the rain pounding the window, and without a pressing reason to get out of bed, it was pretty hard not to re-set the alarm. Next week? I'll just be more realistic and set the alarm for a decent time, allowing for a sleep-in, without interrupting my sleep cycle over and over and over.

I got a Popeye's flier in the mail last week, advertising all the special deals this month. Normally, I chuck junk mail without looking at it, but this time I casually flipped through it. And I had an unusual reaction: desire. I wanted to buy everything. I wanted it all to work.

I wanted the magic beans.

This is surely a sign of the level of desperation I've reached, when I start considering quick fixes, or daydreaming that I can pop a fat-burning pill and still eat a cake because it will melt the fat away for me.

That's ultimately what Popeye's, and other supplement-type stores feel like to me. Magic shops. The rows and rows of pills and powders might just as well be Eye of Newt, or the Orb of Thesulah, or Lethe's Bramble. I walk in to Popeye's, as if it's the Magic Box, half expecting Rupert Giles to greet me and reveal that, for the right price and incantation, I can do what most muggles can't. I can make weight loss easy. 

It's great marketing, I have to say, because I was mentally composing a shopping list (two of everything, just to get the sale price!) and it didn't take long to add up to several hundred dollars. It's so tempting. Despite the reading and research I've done, about how few vitamins and supplements are actually effective, and how many more can be harmful, it was still hard not to look at the sections labelled 'Fat Burners and Weight Loss' or 'Probiotics' and think, "I NEED those! They would make this process easier. Faster. Did I mention easier?" With all the options laid out before you, and all the grand claims, it makes one wonder: how on earth have I manged to even function without pre-workout, post-workout, and during-workout enhancers?

Within each section of the flier is an oh-so-helpful info sheet, touting the benefits or effects of various supplements, conveniently located next to several options for purchase. Next to "the Skinny on Good Fats" are all the variations of Fish Oil that you can buy. No problem there; it's true that there are good fats and that Omega 3 Fish Oils are one of them. It all sounds so logical. So in line with what we know from other sources. Hey, the info in this advertising flier can be trusted! Until I turn the page and read all about Detoxes, which we know - we KNOW - are bad-news-bears and all kinds of harmful. But, of course, you can purchase pills to "get the right detox for you!" And while all the benefits of Creatine are outlined, none of the side-effects are. It is not, actually, for everyone and yet at the top of the flier is the bold claim that "it doesn't matter if you're a weekend warrior, a professional athlete or a bodybuilder - if you want to improve performance and get faster results then you should be using creatine!" You know what it fails to mention? The fact that creatine causes weight gain. Perhaps not for everyone, then.

I'm not actually slamming supplements in theory or in practice. There are some which are effective. There are some which are beneficial. There are equally some which are not, and others which are harmful. I've said it before, and will say it again: you have to be your best advocate and DO. YOUR. RESEARCH. Know what you're putting in to your body, and why.

What I'm taking issue with is just how easy it is to get sucked in to the marketing machine. How there is a supplement for everything that ails you. Like ... everything. All the claims make most of these supplements seem like miracles. But how much more energy is 10% really? If you're lifting weights and a pill promises 18% more power, what does that even mean? Is it significant enough to matter, unless you're a body builder in competition, or an elite professional athlete? For the average person, like me, just trying to lose weight and get healthy, how much product in a store like Popeye's is truly of value?

And, you have to think about how it all works together. I could easily line up a few dozen bottles of pills, because each one targets something specific. Blood glucose regulation. Probiotics for the gut. Fibre. An entire alphabet of Vitamins. Protein. Energy boosters. Appetite suppressants. Muscle builders. Sleep aids. Pretty much the only thing I'm sure I don't need is testosterone. Let's suppose I had the money to take all of those supplements. Which ones would cancel the others out? Could my body even absorb all of the nutrients in that kind of concoction, or would I just have really expensive urine? And what possible negative side effects might come from taking any combination of pills together?

It's hard to say, because most of the supplements are not regulated. There's very little accountability or oversight in the industry. In many cases, quality of product matters. How it's produced or extracted, matters. What part of the plant it's derived from actually matters. But anyone can slap a label on a bottle and say "this is Garcinia Cambogia" and boom - it sells. Whether it's effective at suppressing appetites or not. (With that particular one, dosage makes a difference, as well as which part of the plant and what else is in the pill).

So, it's easy to get sucked in. It's easy to believe in magic, miracles, and even the malarkey. I read the Popeye's ad. I wanted a quick fix, and I allowed myself to dream that it was possible. And then my logic kicked in. Well, that, and my bank account. I tossed it in the recycling bin. When I'm out of my VegeGreen multi-vitamin powder, when there's something I need, I'll go in with a list in hand of what I intend to buy, and not get grabby with what's on sale or what they may try to push based on a quick assessment/assumption of me.

Supplements aren't all bad, but they're just that. They are meant to top up a deficiency or fill a slight void in the diet. They're not meant to replace real, whole foods. But it's easy to believe that we need to.

I've tried lots of magic beans in my time.
I've wished, hoped, and prayed for the miracles.
I have come to the conclusion that for me, with a few exceptions, when it comes to supplements, Sheldon's assessment is the most accurate one:

Sheldon: “You know what this is? And I reserve this word for those rare instances when it’s truly deserved. This… is malarkey.”
Penny: “Wow. You’ve really struck a nerve. I’ve never heard him use the M-word before.”

What's the point of life? I mean, what makes a fulfilling life? I lamented yesterday that sometimes I feel like my biggest accomplishment is going to be losing weight. So far, it's the thing that seems to have gotten the most attention. In reflecting on what's really important, I keep coming back to this piece that came across my "thought for the day" camp files, way back before the Internet when people emailed these things or <gulp> photocopied and passed them around in the dark ages before the World Wide Web.

Maybe it stuck with me so profoundly because I read it as a teen, at a time when I desperately needed to hear the message. Maybe it's just the easiest way for me to live, because it measures success by something over which we have total control, all the time.

Life's about how you treat people. For me, it's as simple as that.

And it has nothing to do with the scale.

What's it all about?

Life isn’t about keeping score. It’s not about how many friends you have, or how many people call you. Or how accepted you are. Not about if you have plans this weekend, or if you’re alone. It isn’t about who you’re dating, who you used to date, how many people you’ve dated, or if you haven’t been with anyone at all. It isn’t about who you have kissed. It is not about sex. It isn’t about who your family is, or how much money they have. Or what kind of car you drive, or where you are sent to school. It’s not about how beautiful or ugly you are. Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on, or what kind of music you listen to. It’s not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, brown, or green. Or if your skin is too light or too dark. Not about what grades you get, how smart you are, how smart everyone else thinks you are, or how smart standardized tests say you are. Or if this teacher likes you, or if this guy/girl likes you. Or what clubs you’re in, or how good you are at “your” sport. It’s not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper and seeing who will accept the written you.

Life.  just.  isn’t.

But life is about who you love and who you hurt. It’s about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully. It’s about keeping or betraying trust. It’s about friendship, used as a sanctity or a weapon. It’s about what you say and mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening. About starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip. It’s about what judgements you pass and why. And who your judgements are spread to. It’s about who you’ve ignored with full control and intention. It’s about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge. It’s about carrying inner hate and love, letting it grow and spreading it. But most of all, it’s about using your life to touch or poison other people’s hearts in such a way that could have never occurred alone.

Only you choose the way those hearts are affected.
We are just too powerful in life sometimes.

A funny thing happened on Facebook last week. I had posted a photo over a year ago, celebrating reaching the milestone of 100 lbs lost. I posted the same century club picture that is on my About page. At the time, it got a lot of "likes" and comments, and then it faded into the background of my timeline. But, as with all things on the Internet, it's not like it went away. It is still there, still tagged, still part of the me that is represented on social media. So I shouldn't have been shocked when one person found it, a year later, and hit the "like" button. It happens, when you add friends after the fact and they get curious and go through your photos, or even when a longtime friend gets bored and just wants to stroll down your memory lane. But, the way Facebook's algorithms work these days, it's the pictures and posts with the most recent activity that get to the top of your friends' newsfeeds, and so it started all over again, as if I had just posted the photo that day. The likes and comments rolled in again, even from some of the same people who had commented a year ago.

It felt completely and awkwardly different this time around. For one thing, I can't currently make the same claim. It was a big deal to see the number on the scale that indicated a triple-digit loss. I maintained that for the better part of the year, but am currently up. By how much, I'm not sure, as I haven't stepped on a scale in two months other than during measurements with Mat. The obsessive tracking and weighing and restrictive eating I did to get there hasn't been my latest lifestyle. I've got to get back there. So, how I feel about that "milestone" today is quite different than a year ago: what I was proud of reaching then, I am now humiliated for having lost in a backslide, embarrassed because I couldn't hold on to that goal.

The other thing that made me uncomfortable with the deluge of well wishes was that it made it seem like I lacked humility. Like I had to re-post such a milestone because I haven't done anything since. Truth be told, I wasn't all that comfortable with posting it the first time, for the same reason. At the time, I wasn't blogging and I wasn't talking openly about weight loss or fitness. I needed to acknowledge it, somehow. Now, when I do talk about it, it is with the understanding that it's an ongoing struggle. It's really not often going to be "hey, look at me! Look what I did! Congratulate me!" It's just "hey, this is hard. And this is what I've learned or how I feel about it. Who's with me?"

It felt important to acknowledge that moment in time. A lot of advice columns in women's magazines suggest that you should celebrate every step of the way, every pound, every size, every interim goal. I didn't do that. I was internally proud, but I didn't outwardly celebrate. I'm not sure why. I have a friend who's on a similar journey and she reached her own momentous milestone recently. She'd been thinking for months about what she'd do to celebrate when she reached her goal, and at one point she asked me what I had done to celebrate 50 lbs, and 100 lbs. I think I now realize why I never did.

It's because the journey's never over. I couldn't let myself get so focused on a goal, small or large, to the point that I had a planned celebration, because I know that once you reach that goal, you don't magically stay there. Life fluctuates. When you turn 50, when you celebrate a 50th anniversary, it means you've crossed a threshold and leveled up and you are never going back. Weight loss is not like that. You don't reach the end of the game board and claim "I win!" and put the dice away. You keep playing, and sometimes you land on a square that sends you backwards.

I also don't want to over-celebrate weight loss as an accomplishment, and seeing the accolades and congratulations for getting less fat, it feels ... too much. Like it's all that I am. Like, all the other things I've done in my life and have been proud of are somehow less significant. It is just a tad too defining for my comfort. Surely, I have contributed more to the world, made more of an impact on people's lives, than by losing weight. Haven't I? Shouldn't I?

Milestones and goals are funny things in health. I understand why it's good to celebrate each step of the way. It is a long haul and a slooooow process. It's easy to get discouraged, so we celebrate victories along the way. Using other accomplishments which were also slow and time consuming as a comparison, I can see that it was one assignment at a time, term after term, that I earned three degrees. I celebrated after handing in each essay, after walking out of each exam, and after walking across each stage to get my diploma. The difference in those cases was that, once I was done, nobody could take it away from me. I still have the academic gold medal I earned doing my Masters degree. Those goals, once met, they are yours. And the process is a checklist of one thing at a time. Regardless of what goals you set for yourself in health, there isn't actually an end. No finish line until you're dead.

Perhaps, then, losing weight is more like a competitive sport. You win some races, and - once won - nobody can take away that medal or title. Well, until the next time the race is held. You probably have a lot of games, and some you win, some you lose. Athletes can never sit back and just say "yep. I'm the best." It's all about the next event. Even the greatest names in their sports eventually grow old, retire, get out of shape or injured, and are replaced by someone who's better, newer, faster. Life shouldn't be that kind of competition, but at times it feels like it, whether I'm competing against others (bad, bad idea) or whether I'm competing against my younger, fitter self. Or, in this case, competing against my first-time-around-the-block self, when the weight loss was slightly easier because there was so much to lose, and my body wasn't used to it. I'll admit, I have a bit of envy for those who are dominating their weight loss, hitting their goals, and doing so well. It's hard to step back and say "they are at a different point in their journey" because the part of me that liked the attention, liked how I felt at that weight, is stamping her foot and whining "but I wanna be back there and still have that feeling, too."

Most people need encouragement and congratulations. I'll admit, I liked a lot of it, too. I wanted to feel proud. I wanted to feel successful. And much of the praise was sincere and heartfelt. When genuine emotion was conveyed, I felt it and all of the comments - then, and now - were appreciated. The danger in being overenthusiastic about someone's body is that those words linger when the body changes. It's why I try not to comment on people's bodies, positive OR negative. I'd rather let them know how they made me feel, or how proud I am of something they said or did. I rarely even acknowledge haircuts unless the person brings it up first, and I try to be careful in talking about weight loss when it's raised in conversation. Because the over-exuberant praise when you're at your lowest size becomes a deafening silence when you put weight back on, and that silence speaks volumes.

I usually start with a point, when I blog. This was more of a ramble. There's no pretty little bow to tie this up with, no lesson to learn. (Other than, perhaps, Facebook is weird and people should pay attention to dates, read comments, or think about it for just a second before hitting "like"). Social media has changed our real-life privacy settings. Which means that I get to hear a lot more positive comments than I would have otherwise, and they are always there for me to go back to when I need a boost. I just don't get to control when that praise comes out of the blue or where it comes from.

And perhaps I needed the reminder that humble pie is always on the menu, and to never get cocky about the milestones I pass on this journey, because it ain't over yet.

There's a good-news story about politicians who are swimming together, and promoting fitness and health. It's good news because I think there's a desperate need for change from the top down, and if MP's are personally invested in health, they may be more likely to keep it front and centre when shaping policy.

There is a group of MP's who start their day in the pool, coached by Pierre LaFontaine, former Olympic swimming coach for Canada. Given my own love of swimming, this makes me happy. The fitness group has broadened to include jogging, and I hope that it continues to expand so that more and more MP's become involved. They say that they are trying to set examples for "the folks back home" to stay fit and active. If that's the end goal, it's just another publicity stunt or attention grab. You don't change people's habits by saying "look at me! If I can do it, you can do it!" It's far too heavy-handed, and borders on fat-shaming. There are steps in a positive direction, as far as spreading the message to get active and fit, to the extent that there's a private member's bill to declare a National Fitness and Health Day in June. (This is where we can all be activists: if you want your MP to support the bill, write or email them and let them know!)

It's a good start, to be sure. But I hope that this group thinks bigger. I hope that the MP's involved don't stop at the awareness level. Do they honestly think that there's a lack of public awareness about health and fitness and the "obesity crisis"? Hell, no. It's everywhere. The biggest problem we have is that most of the solutions focus on the individual. Health is seen as a personal responsibility. Solely. And, while it's true that we can only worry about ourselves and only take care of ourselves and only decide for ourselves how healthy or active we want to be, putting all of the onus on the individual is what has set up the crisis in the first place. Because the failure rate for dieting is exceptionally high. It's not just about willpower. Something bigger is at play.

We're ignoring systemic and social structures and policies which are contributing to the rise in obesity. The entire population did not just suddenly become lazy gluttons who can't control themselves.

What we need are politicians who can stand up to lobbyists and make decisions which are in the best interests of Canadians as a whole. The evidence is mounting against sugar, yet the big food companies have the money behind them, so there's no push for change in marketing or packaging or seeking alternatives. Think about tobacco. Cigarettes are now kept hidden from view, and you have to ask for them. Warning labels are plastered all over the packages, they are heavily taxed, and the places you can smoke are severely limited. What if we did the same thing with pop? Same with seatbelts. Keeping yourself safe and alive in a car is a matter of personal responsibility, just like we say fitness and nutrition are. Yet, there are laws and steep fines for not wearing your seatbelt. Regulation for the public good is nothing new. Why are we so slow to regulate the food industry? (That's a rhetorical question. This pessimist's answer is: money.)

Even if these MP's don't have the political clout or the strength to change major policy like how sugary breakfast cereals are marketed to children, or to regulate the use of high fructose corn syrup in much of our food (again, pop in particular), or to review the Food Pyramid without pressure from dairy, beef, and wheat lobbyists, there are still angles they could push which are less contentious. Funding for sports programs, tax breaks for gym memberships, support for athletes. Neighbourhoods with trails for walking and hiking, bike lanes, sidewalks, and suburbs with markets and grocery stores. A recent study showing that the risk of obesity correlates to neighbourhoods (in Toronto) indicates that physical environment and socio-economic factors affect our health as much as willpower or personal responsibility. Urban design affects public health, and that's something that our politicians can impact.

In other words, fighting the obesity crisis, epidemic, or war - whatever you want to call it - requires more than just a call to action for people to get up off their couch and move. It requires change at all levels. The MP's do have one thing right, though. By swimming and jogging together, they are also forming bonds of friendship and an opportunity for understanding which will, hopefully, cross party lines. Because our collective health as Canadians is not a political issue.

Video source: CBC's The National - MPs switch suits to promote national fitness

Last night I dreamed that I ate dessert. Like, a LOT of it. Creamy, sugary, caramel-y, not-even-sure-it-exists-in-real-life, desserts. Yeah, plural. In other words, I dream binged.

I don't often remember my dreams, so I don't know how often I dream about food or binging. Perhaps I just woke up in the middle of this one and so it stuck. I was in the throes of a full-on, no-holds-barred, Homer Simpson level binge.

It doesn't take a genius to interpret this kind of dream, but I looked it up anyway. "Binge" or "Binging" doesn't seem to be in most dream dictionaries, so I tried looking up "desserts" because that's what I was eating. Apparently, to dream about dessert "means that you are experiencing the benefits of satisfaction, fulfillment, or desire. You are taking pleasure in the positive events in life." Yet this was clearly not pleasurable. Even in my dream, I knew I was in a full-blown binge. I knew it was wrong. I felt the guilt and the shame.

Okay. Let's try looking up "food" or "eating" in dreams. "To dream that you are overeating or not eating enough signifies a lack of spirituality and fulfillment in your waking life. Food can represent love, friendship, ambition, sex or pleasure in your life. Thus, food is a metaphor to fulfill and gratify your hunger for love and desires." Hmmm. So, not so much an interpretive meaning as the exact psychological reasoning for waking eating. Using food to replace or compensate for feelings. Emotional eating will getcha every time, even in your subconscious.

Perhaps there's an even simpler explanation, which needs no interpretation: "If you are currently dieting in your waking life, then the dream may serve to compensate for the sustenance that you are lacking."

Getting away from dream interpretation or dream dictionaries, a quick search for dream binging pretty much leads you to forums where people talk about doing exactly what I did: dreaming about food. The most common forums are for eating disorders, while some are just your average diet sites. Either way, it's clear to me that this is not uncommon. The more you think about food during the day, the more your brain needs to process it while at rest. What is not clear is whether this is a healthy or unhealthy coping skill. Will dreaming about eating stem the tide of a waking binge, or will it trigger the hunger pangs and the thoughts that lead to a binge?

If eating in a healthy way does not come naturally or easily, (which, let's face it, is true for a lot of us), then it can be quite consuming - both consciously and subconsciously. At least I didn't dream that my food was consuming ME.

Subtitle: Boobies! Now that I have your attention, let's talk about the girls.

You know, there ARE drawbacks to losing weight. Just about every woman I know who has gone through weight loss has, at some time, lamented the fact that the first place we tend to lose is from the last place we want to lose.
The Boobs.

Yeah, the girls tend to get lost first. If only it was possible to actually target specific areas for fat loss! Alas, it's not. And so we watch the cleavage shrink.

I came across an article that promises exercises to help perk up your boobies. I don't know how well they'll actually work for keeping the mammaries instead of your butt. I suspect they're simply good exercises for strengthening the chest and back in general, which helps to lift whatever you happen to be carrying. I mean, for all that we talk about hating fat, that's pretty much what breasts are. Functional fat. So when you lose fat, you lose your tits, too. (I'm running out of words for breasts, here).

But don't worry. It's not all bad. Going down a few cup sizes makes cardio and core workouts, uh, a little less ... painful.

Because, trust me, exercise can be plenty uncomfortable if you're not bound up and strapped in tighter than a toddler in a carseat. I can't weigh in on the effect of gravity-plus-motion on a guy's twigs and berries, but I imagine it may be the same as for any body part that is both fleshy and loose. Without the right support, you're exacerbating the pain. Just about any woman could confirm this anecdotally, but a study on marathon runners confirmed it (scientifically!). The problem of breast pain in women who exercise can be reduced by 85% with the right sports bra. The problem is that many women aren't wearing the right one, and are not getting the support we need.

It's no wonder. A good sports bra, like Iron Man military-grade engineered to be GOOD, can cost around $70. How many of those do you think we have in our closets? If you're working out frequently, it's more than likely that you have several cheap sports bras from Target that basically just mush everything everything together into a uniboob. You save the industrial-strength support bras for the really intense workouts!

This topic is, of course, marginally tongue-in-cheek. The last few posts were getting downright depressing. What better to lift the mood (ha, see what I did there? "lift"), than to talk about breasts?

But, seriously, there is something very valid about investing in support. My dad is, to put it politely, cheap. However, he instilled in us this one important value: you don't skimp out on support. Spend what you need in order to get the best quality in shoes, tires, and mattresses. All forms of support. Looks like we can add "sports bras" to that list.

"Owwww. My knees..." is what my head is saying as I sit at the computer balancing ice packs on them, sucking back ibuprofen. It's a pretty common refrain.

Knee pain is something that a lot of people can relate to. We almost all have knees, we use them daily, and they are one of the first joints to wear out. Athletes often have knee issues, as do very sedentary or overweight people. Let's face it: the knees take the brunt of our impact, regardless of what we're doing. Especially over time (which is a polite way of saying as we get old and crusty). And there are so many things that can go wrong, so many ways to have "bad knees."

I've always had knee problems. As a child, I would wake up screaming and crying from the pain. This was before weight issues, I might add. They were chalked up to "growing pains." (Which I don't fully understand. I am short. It's not like I grew too rapidly, or anything. It just coincided with puberty, when your body goes through all kinds of changes. I suspect that "growing pains" was a way for my parents and doctor to explain something complex and un-understandable). At any rate, my dad would rub my knees and try to talk me through relaxation exercises, but I think it was the Advil or Tylenol that would eventually kick in and help me go back to sleep.

Patellofemoral Pain Syndrome
Sounds impressive, right? It's not. Just a fancy word for common knee pain. The patella is the kneecap, and the femur is the leg bone, and where the two meet is the joint known as the knee. Still, when you have chronic knee pain that can be caused or triggered by a variety of reasons, it sucks. It's frustrating. It holds you back. physically and mentally. And it makes you feel just a little crazy because the same motion doesn't always create the same pain - you can't duplicate the pain when a doctor needs to know what motion causes the problem. Sometimes it's okay, sometimes it's not, which makes you question your sanity. And it's always there, at the back of your mind: "what's the next totally random motion that is going to be THE ONE that causes injury?"

Patellar Dislocations
It shouldn't have been that surprising, then, that I dislocated the patella when I was in highschool, given that it happens mostly to girls, mostly in their teens, and with my history of weak knees. What was surprising was that I did it while playing a tambourine. For real. I went in for the big finish, stepped out the wrong way, and found myself on the ground. I thought someone had pushed me, until I went to get up and realized that my kneecap was on the side of my knee, not at the front. Then the pain kicked in. There is nothing like ruining the last period of the last day before Christmas holidays by being rolled out on an ambulance gurney in front of the whole school because you just had to show off in a performance of Feliz Navidad.

I dislocated that sucker (always the left knee) two more times. The second time was, again, because I was showing off. I was impatiently waiting for someone to come and help me to carry a canoe back to the shed at the day camp I was working at, and I decided to try a solo flip-up and portage it myself. One second too long of extra strain and I was down for the count, lying in the goose poop on the grass, grateful for a co-counsellor who had the foresight to keep the kids away so I could swear and make ugly pain faces. (Oddly enough, it was the very last day of the summer. There seems to be a correlation between popping the kneecap out and various "worst possible moments").

The last time it happened was in Japan. I was there for a conference, it was only the second or third day, it was raining, and we were walking to a restaurant along a gently-sloped tile walkway. It was a tad slippery, but that's all that I know. I still don't understand what happened. I just slipped and fell. It could have popped out, and when I fell I knocked it back in. Or perhaps I lost my footing and the strain forced the knee outwards. I'll never know. What I *do* know is that being in that kind of pain and not being able to communicate with doctors, having to worry about travel insurance coverage, different medical customs, and navigating Tokyo on crutches were all part of the experience that eclipsed the knee pain. I still have one spot on my knee that is numb from where the doctor used the biggest needle I've ever seen to draw blood and fluid from a bruise, to reduce swelling (according to my poor translator), and he hit a nerve.

What has also come along with the three dislocations is fear. It's been over 13 years since the last dislocation (October 2000), and to this day I have a near-paralyzing fear when I'm on ice or anything unstable. The slightest twinge or hint of pain, and the fear kicks in. Because I remember. I remember the pain, I remember the frustration of immobility, and I remember how much weaker I was after each pop.

Arthritis
All the dislocations don't quite explain the dull ache kind of pain, though. This, I've been getting more of lately. Accompanied by a weird crunching when I bend the knees in certain ways. A visit to the doctor and a few x-rays later confirmed early arthritis. Not very surprising given family history, and my own history of obesity. Of course, it could be related to the patelofemoral pain syndrome. The two are often confused. But this is the kind of pain that comes after leg day, or when I'm tired, or when I just haven't stretched or used the leg muscles enough. It's the kind of pain that is annoying, but which I know that I have to push through to keep on exercising, to keep on strengthening the muscles, because that's the only thing that will help to delay the onset of the nasty, debilitating kind of arthritis. I'm just trying to hold it off until, oh, let's say, my 70's instead of my 40's.

Move it or lose it.
NOT moving your knees can be as bad or troublesome as over-use. It's rare that I'm at my desk for an entire day, anymore, but when I am I really notice the lack of movement. The place I feel it the most is in my knees. Getting up after sitting still for too long elicits many creaks and cracks from those joints. They say that sitting is the new smoking, and I can believe it, because I have to focus on getting up and walking around at work or I'll seize up like the Tin Man in Wizard of Oz.

And I recall that it took me twice as long to recover the first time that I dislocated the kneecap, because I kept the whole leg immobilized for too long. At any slight sign of pain, I froze up and stopped, and that caused the entire leg to seize up. It was therefore more painful each time I tried to move my knee. I've since learned to differentiate between the pain. There is immediate, cease-and-desist pain, which tells me that the motion I'm doing is clearly not a good one. Danger, Will Robinson, Danger! Then there is the far more common "ow ow ow ow ow" achy pain that comes with either a lack of use (after sitting, or after standing in one place for too long), which just needs to get the joint moving again, or the "something is degenerating beneath the patella, and wearing away, but there's nothing I can do about it" pain. Those are the ones to push through, for the greater good. In other words, I feel better when I'm moving.

Nice history of your knees. What's the point?
All of which brings me back to why I'm writing about the knees at this particular time. Yesterday was leg day, and after a high-impact class on Saturday, they were still a little hurty. By today? Ice and Ibuprofen are required. As Mat had me doing lunges and other "push" exercises, I felt more immediate pain than usual. Of the patelo-femoral kind, rather than arthritis. Each time, I stopped, but the fear was also kicking in. He made me stop what I was trying to do (well, what I was failing to do), and had me foam roll. Always, with the foam rolling and stretching! What was interesting was that, afterwards, I was able to do the steps with more ease. Still with pain, but far less, and with far better range of motion.

Damn. I hate when I have to admit he's right.

Calf stretches, foam rolling, yoga, TRX flex, anything that gets a good leg stretch. Apparently "just after I work out ... when I remember to ... when I feel like it ..." is not often enough. Yet another daily routine to add to the list of healthy habits, stretching and foam rolling are going to have to be at the top of the list if I want to save my knees. (Which will also make my registered massage therapist sister happy; she's a public stretcher, she believes in it so much).

Mat had asked me to let him know how my knees were, after yesterday.
Me: "One word: ow ow ow ow ow."
Mat: "I'm going to check your alignment tomorrow."
Me: "You make me sound like a car."
Mat: "Cars are easier to fix."
Me: "But more expensive."
Mat: "Are they? You only have one body to live in. Best to invest in that, rather than a new one."

Fighting inflammation. Stretching. Exercise - smart and varied exercise.
That's how you keep your vehicle running for as long as possible.
Even if you got a lemon.



(By the by, if you see yourself in my descriptions and think, "yeah, that's ME!" then check out this resource for everything you ever wanted to know about Patellofemoral Pain Syndrome and general knee pain).

Keep going. Whatever point you're at, do what you can, the best that you can. That's the moral of the story. Yeah, I'm giving away the ending. If you don't want to bear with me as I recount some anecdotes from the past few days, then know that the thread that ties them all together is that you have to put one foot in front of the other, and keep going.

Though, I feel compelled to point out that if you don't have the patience to read a slightly longer-than-normal post, then the whole point of "KEEP GOING" may be lost on you in the first place.
Just sayin'.

Friday's Personal Training: when I said NO.
We were playing Hit the Deck in personal training, Captain America-style. Every suit was a different exercise, and the number on the card told us how many of each I had to do. Mat let me suggest some of the exercises, even though he adjusted them, made them more difficult and complex and tied them in to the new Captain America movie. (Bosu ball = the shield!). I deliberately requested push-ups, because a few days prior I was struggling with them. I seemed to have lost my strength, and my usual response is that if there's something that is hard, or something I don't like, that's exactly the thing I should be doing. But, half way through that game, a push-up card came up, and I said "no." Mat stared at me. "What do you mean, 'no'?" he demanded. I shook my head. "No." Next card. Push-ups. I got the look from him. He got a look back from me. The next few cards were all push-ups, and it became a standoff. He was trying to figure out what was going on. "Is it your shoulders?" Nope. "Your chest?" Nope. "Then do your push-ups!" Nope. In that moment, I couldn't articulate what was going on in my head, why I was digging in my heels and refusing to do pushups. I saw the wheels spinning in his brain, having never truly come up against my stubbornness before. It's like trying to pull the sword from the stone: not humanly possible unless I decide you're the person who can do it. Most of the time, I don't resist what Mat asks of me, even if I don't feel like doing it, because he's doing exactly what I've asked of him : he's coaching and training me. He finally kept going until we got a non-push-up card, but he set the ones I'd said "no" to aside. I was running out of steam through the whole thing, but was at least able to do the Russian twists and medicine ball slams and Bosu burpees. Sort of. He finished with the last card, then looked down at the ones he had set aside. "So, what are we going to do about these?" he gently asked. The sword budged a little.

"Mat, it's my gut," I said. We'd done measurements at the start of the session. He knew how bad things were, how many inches and pounds I'd put on. "I don't have the strength in my arms and chest to do all the pushups from my feet, and when I go to my knees, all I can see is my gut hanging down. I can feel it touching the ground. The tears were THIS close to the surface, and I just didn't want to cry in front of you." Deep breath.
Him: "How can you see your stomach? Why are you looking that far down?"
Me: "Peripheral vision."
Him: "Close your eyes!"
Me: "I did! I could still FEEL it."
Him: "Do you think you can do them from the Bosu ball?" he asked. I got into position to try. As I psyched myself up, he suggested that I could also do them off the wall. In other words, there were options and modifications. He just wanted me to DO them and finish. One card at a time. I did a card, using the Bosu ball. "Do you think you can do six more?" I did. Next card. "How about four?" Card by card, push-up by push-up, we finished the deck together. Mat pulled the sword from the stone.

He had a little bit of time before his next client. Now, most trainers would probably have said, "the hour's over, we're done" or "I need to grab a bite to eat and take a break." Instead, he said, "I have some time if you want to chat. We can go down to the consult room." When he asked what happened, I said, "do you know how long it's been since I've had to drop to my knees for push-ups?"
Mat told me, "It happens. It's okay!"
"No, it's not." (Stubborn stubborn stubborn).
"Yes, it really is."

And that's how we ended the session, with the understanding that it's okay to not be able to do something today that you were able to do yesterday, or last month. With a promise to come up with an action plan, and a check in of "are you really okay?" No shame, no guilt. Just one single reproach: "Next time, don't just tell me 'no.' Tell me why."

Saturday: Group Core class
Given how Friday had gone, I had little motivation to make it to the Saturday classes I had promised people I'd attend. I was up three hours early, and still only left myself ten minutes to get to the gym, rushing in fairly late. Kept putting it off. I did not want to be there. A lot was riding on having a good workout, mentally. Fortunately, I'm comfortable with the Group Core routines, and it was a familiar and friendly instructor. By the end, I felt back in the groove of things. I hadn't done the lateral pushups as cleanly as in the past, and I kept my feet down for half of the Russian twists, but it didn't matter. The scripts for the Group Core and Group Power classes include "options." The instructors give you options and let you know which one to take if you want more of a challenge, and which ones to try if you want less, and they leave it up to you. Because it's part of the script, there's no judgment and no shame, and really nobody is watching what you're doing, anyway. The modifications are slight, and are similar enough to what everyone else is doing. I left the class starting to feel like I was getting back to my old self.

I probably should have stopped there.

Saturday: Boot Camp
Twenty minutes after Group Core, the noon-hour boot camp started. I'd seen this class run, but had never taken it. Between work, personal training, or my social life, it just wasn't a class I could make it to. With other friends having announced they'd be there, it seemed like a good week to give it a shot. It was, unfortunately, also a week which was not representative of how it's usually run. The three volunteers who are known for that class were off. It was a pity, because they offer three levels of physical ability and therefore provide options to follow. As an observer, I thought the class seemed like one that could be taken by almost anyone, at any level of ability. On this day? Not so much. It was running. Like, a LOT of running. And when we weren't running, we were lunging, squatting, and generally doing high impact or knee-intensive motions. It only took about 20 minutes into the 60 minute class for my knees to start making their displeasure with me known. "We are not happy that you are torturing us! We are going to retaliate with pain! If you do not cease and desist, retribution will be swift!" I wanted to bail. I really really did. I just ... I couldn't. I had to keep going. I thought, "you've been in enough classes, you've been trained, you can figure out your own modifications, even if they're not providing suggestions." So, when the group ran back and forth from one side to the other, I thought "what is it they're wanting us to get out of this? Heart rate up? Okay. I'll do half-Jacks, the low-impact version of Jumping Jacks." Only, it was humiliatingly obvious that I was taking an option. I stood out like a sore thumb. As I walked in a circle, as quickly as I could while most of the other participants ran past me, another guy caught up to me and said, "this feels a lot like gym class." And I knew that he didn't mean it in a good way.

It was an eye-opening experience, because it had been a long time since I'd taken a class where I felt that way. Overly visible. Embarrassed. Other. It went against everything I've said about classes at the Y: that nobody is watching you, nobody is judging you. Whether they were or not, I sure felt like all eyes were on me. Not a good feeling.

Sunday: Swim
After the Saturday boot camp, my knees were killing me. Like, old-lady-needs-a-walker creaking and cracking KILLING me. I needed something low impact. I needed something I was good at. I needed to feel successful and invisible and confident all at the same time. So I went back to my roots, and got into the pool. It was lane swimming that got me going on the fitness journey, and it's my go-to at times like this when I need a re-set. Back to the basics. But I was reminded of how swimming got me over some big hurdles, both physically and metaphorically. One lane at a time. Don't think about how long you have been in the water, or how many lengths in total you have to do. Take it one lap at a time until you get to ten. And another ten. And another. And so on.

Come on, let's get to the point already!
On Friday, I resisted the idea that it was okay to take the option. I felt weak for even needing to. By Saturday, I was wishing that options were provided. In both cases, it was my pride that got in the way. All mental. And in both cases, the key was not whether I could do the entire class at full intensity, it was to finish. To keep going. To do my best with what I had in that moment. It may not have been my all-time best, but that doesn't matter. Mat knew it. He didn't care how well I did or how many I did, I think he just knew that it was important that I finish (or else he'd be facing some much bigger mental hurdles to have to coax my butt through in the future).

If you want to change, you have to put one foot in front of the other. The only alternative is to stay stuck.

Keep. Going.

The HAES (Health At Every Size) concept is what helped to change my life and my way of thinking. Before I started exercising, before I even started to change habits and eating patterns, I needed to get just a little bit angry. See, I'd spent most of my time being sad about being fat, and when I was angry it was at myself. A few years ago I came across a blog by Kate Harding called Shapely Prose. I spent hours reading back through the three years of posts, clicking on links to other articles, other blogs, other big names in the HAES community. I finally turned some of that fat anger outward, towards society and some really messed up expectations and messages, rather than inward, towards myself and my perceived failings and shortcomings.

The premise behind HAES is that diets don't work, and fat itself is not the mortal enemy it's made out to be. Too much focus, even within the medical community, is on losing weight. At all costs. And when you make fat loss the end goal, you don't necessarily get healthy results, you just get a thinner person. An example is that you can cut off a limb and lose weight according to the scale, but you are not better off or any healthier. Other less grotesque examples are the extreme bariatric surgeries (which carry huge risks and side effects), or crash diets which often lead to eating disorders. All of which may technically lead to weight loss, and none of which create healthier people.

HAES promotes health and fitness, plain and simple.

Except that it's clearly not simple. More and more people in the fitness industry and medical community are coming around to this notion, especially as more studies are done which demonstrate that it is your actions, your habits, which determine your health - not your body size. Yes, it is possible to be fat and fit, and it is equally possible to be thin and unhealthy. What you put into your body determines your health. How you move your body determines your fitness. Health should be measured by blood glucose, cholestorel levels, flexibility and mobility, lack of pain, quality of sleep, and all of those things which are not visible. The number on the scale? Not the only or the best indicator of health.

So why is this such a radical concept?

The thing that the haters miss about HAES is that it's not called "healthy" at every size. If you want to save  your sanity, don't read the comments in any article or blog post related to HAES because guaranteed there will be at least one troll who snarks about how HAES and Fat Acceptance is just an argument for the fatties to continue unhealthy lifestyles and to justify their laziness. What a difference that "y" at the end makes.

Health at Every Size does not necessarily mean that everyone and anyone IS healthy at any size. That includes the very skinny, the normal, and anyone in any BMI category. No one is truly arguing that obesity is healthy. (Well, some may. I'm not.) The point is that there are far better determinants of health than just your body size, or how much fat you carry. It all comes back to you can't tell what a person eats, how often they work out, or anything else about them except how their body stores fat.

Obesity is a really complex issue. There's no clear-cut solution, because if there was, trust me: us fatties would be all over it. The problem is that so much reporting and discussion about obesity is over-simplified, so that the message is basically "FAT = DEATH! OMG! DECLARE WAR ON OBESITY!" It's not helping. It's not working. HAES offers a more health-based approach.

The bigger point that resonates with me and HAES is not just that it's possible to be healthy at any size, but that we have the right to be healthy. I don't think I truly believed that. I felt like getting fat was my own fault (rather than considering various social, economic, genetic, environmental, and cultural factors), and so I forfeited my rights to be treated with respect or dignity. HAES changed that. If it was solely about weight loss I'd still be on the diet yo-yo train of starvation and eating frozen Lean Cuisine dinners and buying Weight Watchers snack cakes. The focus on health has led me to attempt varied exercise and clean(er) eating.

It's also saved me a lot of sanity points because there's a lot of tie-ins to body image with HAES. Mat has said to me that "Fitness is about feeling good." Happiness should be part of health, and accepting your body and your self is a crucial stop on that journey. I know that not all of the science that is spouted in support of HAES concepts is sound, and some arguments over-reach. Dieting is contrary to HAES practice, so attempts to control weight go against it, and I am clearly working to control my weight and to continue losing. Still, it was HAES which got me to adopt a more balanced approach to life, health, and fitness. It worked in the beginning, and then disordered eating and a really F'd up body image were re-triggered by losing the weight; exactly what I didn't want to have happen. In my quest for making this the year of balance, it is time to revisit some of the old HAES articles and concepts, and get back to a focus - a true, sincere, honest focus - on becoming HEALTHY. No matter what size I reach.