Archive for the ‘Fitness’ Category

Okay, so staging the first and only Momover giveaway – in conjunction with my Mama Guru slash fitness goddess LaReine Chabut – five seconds before A) Labor Day and B) Really Horrible Tropical Storm Irene probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had in my life.

But my decision to make it a “show us your fitness stuff” contest rather than a straight-up giveaway was actually borderline genius. Because then I got to pick a winner and share her post-babies getting back in shape tale with all of you.

So here’s my girlie. I swear I didn’t pick her because her name is exactly like mine.

Rather, lovely Daina is the mama of the moment because of her spirit and her commitment to making her health and wellness a top priority.

And as you’ll soon read, that’s what it took: A pledge to herself that despite everything else that’s going on in her crazy-busy life, she would still carve out the time to exercise and eat right.

So let’s hop right into our happy little Q & A. It’s so inspiring you’ll be zipping up that tracksuit:

MOMOVER LADY: How have you re-jiggered your schedule to fit in your workouts? Are you being more time-efficient at work? Or have you hired a cleaning lady or asked your husband to make dinner a few nights a week? Something had to go, right?

DAINA: My greatest barrier to working out was (is) a lack of time. I juggle a full-time job, which requires me to travel at least once a week, two children (ages 1 and 3), a dog, a household and myriad other duties and obligations. My a-ha! moment was a realization that time would never magically appear. I had to make time. If working out was something I wanted to do, I had to push aside, re-priortize, pay a babysitter or do whatever I needed to make that commitment.

As for specifics, I committed to twice-a-week TRX class that starts about 30 minutes after my daughter’s bedtime. On those nights, I put on my workout clothes, get the kids fed and bathed a little earlier, and my husband puts our son to bed so I can rush to class. Is it a rush rush rush evening? Yes, but I get to my workout.

On one or two other days, I block my workout time (plus some time for travel to and fro) in my work calendar, usually around lunch time. I hustle off to the gym for a condensed (45-minute) workout.

I also picked a gym that offers inexpensive childcare, though I haven’t used it yet.

MOMOVER LADY: What’s been the greatest benefit so far? More energy? Sleeping better? Less stressed? Or is it purely superficial, like an inch off the old thighs?

DAINA: I’m happier after I work out. Much happier. I don’t know if it’s the “me” time or the fact that I’m getting stronger or just the post-workout endorphins, but the happiness glow lasts for quite a bit. Last week I missed two workouts because of travel and houseguests, and I was feeling grumpy and anxious. On Friday, when I finally sweated it out, I felt great.

MOMOVER LADY: TRX sounds scary. Like P90X kinda scary.

DAINA: It’s a Navy Seals type of workout. It’s great. A killer workout. But I’ve also been been trying to get my head around adding some more cardio. I used to love running, but that hasn’t been as appealing after having two almost-10 lb babies and nursing for two years.

MOMOVER LADY: On the food front, what’s been the biggest hurdle? Are there “trigger” foods you just can’t stop eating? Like me and my godforsaken Kettle chips?

DAINA: Ah food. Here’s the rub: food is what really matters. Eating clean and lean changes your body. I *know* this, but for me, what I eat is the hardest thing to change. I think it’s because exercise is fun (see post-workout high), but limiting food is about, well, limitation. Limitation isn’t fun.

For me, the first step has been realizing that what I put in my mouth matters. Every. Single. Bite. I love my ice cream, wine and Nutella, but where I really fall down is the little bite here, the little bite there, the handful of almonds, my kids’ leftover mac & cheese, etc.

My goal for next week is to start a food diary. Not because it will show me some patterns (although it probably will), but to force myself to be HONEST about those bits, bites and handfuls that add up over the course of the day.

MOMOVER LADY: Bingo. In my book, I have an entire chapter on the importance of keeping a food diary or journal. Seeing it in print is the real deal. But what about cooking? Do you cook for yourself? And if so, how has your food preparation changed since you started being more aware of calories and fat and such?

DAINA: This is the one area where I’ve always been good. I love to cook, and I cook for my family almost every day. My habits haven’t changed that much since I’ve always been a pretty healthy, whole-food kind of chef.

Also, as an aside to your post about “cheating” by using store-bought ingredients for lasagna, that’s not cheating! It’s smart, and there are celebrity chefs devoted to semi-homemade food.

I’m not a huge Sandra Lee fan, but check out A Twist of the Wrist: Quick Flavorful Meals with Ingredients from Jars, Cans, Bags and Boxes by Nancy Silverton. She’s an amazing chef and baker, and this cookbook is all about using ready-made sauces, soups, pastas, beans, rotisserie chicken, etc. Everything I’ve made from that book is delicious, and makes me look like a gourmet cook. Seriously.

MOMOVER LADY: OMG, I’m Amazoning that tonight. You’re like a walking, talking tips machine! But I have one last question before you sail back into Daina-Ville: How has your outlook on life changed since you started taking better care of yourself?

DAINA: Taking care of myself = happier mama.

MOMOVER LADY: Well I feel happier just having met you, even if it’s only digitally. You are really, really inspiring. Thank you for sharing your story. Yay!

We were P90X-ing for the first half of the year, and then off on our (unspeakably fun) Road Trip 2011, so Hubby and I didn’t get around to taking tennis lessons – held, oh so conveniently, on the courts on top of our building – until recently.

As emblematic of virtually everything else in our lives that requires skill and knowledge (with the possible exception of slathering on nanotechy miracle crèmes and memorizing obscure Dutch fashion magazines), he’s in the “Advanced” class, while Momover Lady is stuck firmly in “Beginner.”

But this year, I’ve segued beyond obsessing over my cute little outfit to something…else. Now that I’ve (loosely) mastered the basics, I – gasp – might actually want to get better.

I think that’s what it takes to move the needle on tennis. Or anything else you’re learning, for that matter. You need a bit of internal fire, a competitive spirit.

Yesterday, I was hanging out with a new pal who was introduced to me by my über-bestie, Lisa. And when the talk turned to tennis, I said, “Can you believe Lisa was ranked as a teenager?”

“Please,” said New Pal cheerfully. “I mopped the floor with her.” Oh snap!

Faithful Momoverettes might recall that I consider Andre Agassi’s memoir one of the best books I’ve read in some time, right up there with my ultimate fave, House of Mirth. Sooo good; the handsome charmer hit it right out of Arthur Ashe with that one.

This long Labor Day weekend, at least in Gotham, is unfortunately shaping up to be a wee bit waterlogged. (Translation: Thunderstorms are predicted for all three days.) Thus, I expect to be glued to the telly watching the U.S. Open.

But if the matches get pulled for rain, I’m gonna spend some Q-time trying to track down my ancient copy of Learn Tennis In a Weekend. The pictures are hilarious, because the guys are clad in these teensy, McEnroe-short, togs. But it’s packed with lots of good info.

I know it’s here someplace, and I need it. I want to get better. Watch out, Lisa.

To celebrate the latest Mama Guru featuring fitness whiz extraordinaire LaReine Chabut, she and I have cooked up a devious little get-your-ass-moving scheme.

If you email me (DanaWood@Momover.net) and share your post-baby getting back in shape story, we’ll pick the most motivating “you go girl” tale and reward you handsomely with:

1. A copy of LaReine’s book. This one, although she’s written like a million.

2. An exercise ball sized to fit your specific bod. (Why? Because they are deeply awesome and because LaReine and I finally figured out that we first met when I included her Exercise Balls for Dummies book in a pregnancy fitness story I wrote for Cookie back in the Stone Age.)

3. The opportunity to tell the Momoverette community about your fitness routine when I host you (and go all Barbara Walters on your –s) as a Special Blog Guest. Trust me, being a Special Blog Guest is tons of fun. Just ask artist mama Tish Johnson Cook.

Okay, officially standing by to hear all about your poochy belly triumphs. And remember: It’s not about whether you look like a mom-babe. We just want to know how you’re working your way back to fighting form.

UPDATE: LaReine (big old meanie) wants me to set a deadline of next Wednesday, 8/31. So get scribbling, vacay be damned.

DOUBLE UPDATE: I’m overriding LaReine and lifting this deadline due to the hurricane and the fact that this is literally the biggest vacation time-frame of the entire year. Tell us your fitness tale whenever you can!

Grrr…my pretty little ‘hood on the Hudson is being “discovered” by the masses. How do I know this? Because of the incessant jack-hammering around all the new condos and rentals going up to accommodate the many like-minded peeps who want to ditch Gotham but still keep it in their sight-lines.

In fact, there’s so much construction goin’ on ’round here that it reminds me of Battery Park City, which we fled three years ago because of all the…

…incessant jack-hammering.

Okay, snapping out of Whinge & Whine mode now to report on a phenom that I positively adore about where I live: the multi-culti morning rituals I see when I go for a rog (i.e., my special blend of not-really-jogging-and-not-really-running.)

Take yesterday, for instance. As I trucked along the marina, I saw my neighbors:

1. Sitting on park benches engaged in alternate nostril breathing.

2. Moving gracefully through a series of tai chi moves.

3. Lying face-down on a beautiful embroidered rug, grabbing ass cheeks. (Okay, it was just one guy, and maybe he was a big perv, but it certainly looked like part of some super-serious, elaborate routine.)

4. Power-strollering the mama-weight off. Yay yay yay! Way to go new mommies!

5. Twisting into pretzel-esque yoga positions on the lawn by the so-cute-you-could-just-squish-it miniature lighthouse.

6. Sculpting the booty of their dreams by doing leg lifts with resistance bands.

7. Huffing and puffing through jumping jacks and other flab-busting calisthenics, in a group class in the Town Square led by a fiercely barking fitness guru.

So inspiring, right? Just writing all that has made me jones for a little rog right now, before our big Sunday-morning breakfast and mandatory afternoon viewing of The Smurfs. And I’m off like a prom dress.

Never let it be said that I don’t give life my all. My 100 percent. My “A” game.

Because I so totally do.

In the past 72 hours, ever since we got back from the best trip ever, I’ve been a veritable beehive of activity.

And today’s Scorpio horoscope in The New York Post pretty much sums up my mindset: “You will know with the utmost clarity today what it is that needs to be done – after which it is simply a case of applying yourself. There will never be a better time to get your act together, so get to it!”

Helloooo??? Like I haven’t already been doing that????

Yesterday, like the glutton for punishment I am, I kicked off a second round of P90X. Grrr. I am so sore right now. My back is killing me. And I guess I got fairly out of shape in between Phase One and Phase Two, because during the first session, I was revisited by that gnarly sensation of wanting to hurl. But at least I know now that the nausea is only temporary, and will dissipate as soon as I get my sea legs again.

Tomorrow I’m slated to visit Dr. Brandt for the big face reno I’ve been yakking about, so either I get up at the crack o’ dawn and work out before zipping off to Gotham or I take a pass until Thursday. I think it’s “contra-indicated,” as they say in medical-ese, to jump around like a maniac and bust a bunch of fitness moves when you’ve just had your mug shot with Botox or Restylane or what have you.

But given how nervous I am about my appointment – somehow, miraculously, I am the world’s only late-40s beauty editor who has never had Botox or any type of injectible fillers – maybe I should exercise before I go. What would really calm me down is running. But as I’ve said repeatedly, if I want to move the needle on my bod, lacing up the Nikes day after day ain’t gonna cut it.

Okay, time to put the Wee Lass to bed so she’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for day camp in the morning. Over and out.

NOTE TO MY BELOVED MOMOVERETTES: We’re already home from Road Trip 2011, but somehow this blog post – which I wrote like 10 looong and festive days  ago – got trapped in WordPress Purgatory. So I’m unleashing it now. No sense in letting my “time off” laboring go to waste, right?

You know you’re on vacation when you exercise specifically to create an umbrella-drink calorie deficit.

I’m usually ultra-skeptical about those calorie counters on treadmills and ellipticals, but today, as I slogged through a post-pool run at The Four Seasons Saint Louis, I was a happy little hamster. Why? Because as I trucked along, it was heading north at quite a fast clip, and I’m hoping the whole thing is at least a little legit.

After all, I’ve been eating and drinking everything that isn’t nailed down.

But isn’t that kind of the point of va-cay? Lightening up on all the rules and regs for a spell, at least until the real world breaks down the door again?

Besides, I’m doing my bit to keep the mommy-pudgies at bay. I’m walking a lot and hitting the gym a smidge. And today, I even did intervals, which I’m kinda not in to. I like to slip into a coma when I run, and intervals make you all focused and goal-y. Damn intervals. If only they weren’t such primo fat-blasters.

So I’m sure you’re dying to know how many calories I burned by driving myself slightly batty with the fast, slow, fast business: 302 after 30 minutes. One frozen cocktail’s worth. Yay!

Including 10 minutes ago, as I wrapped up a morning run. (Actually what I do is closer to jogging. Rogging? Yeah, that’s it. I mostly rog now…)

So now of course, I have to slam into my day ASAP: Feed the Wee Lass her breakie, fight with her about her outfit (she will NOT stop wearing this one particular Calypso dress I nabbed from Target), power-walk her to school and then head into the big bad city for work.

Anyway, the fact that I’ve already logged so many exercise miles this year is good, right? Most of it was the P90X – 6 workouts a week for 14 weeks. I’m no math whiz, but I know that’s a lot.

But now it’s mostly a run squeezed in here and there or a quick session with my trusty jump rope.

So in other words, until I do another round of P90X later this summer, I could morph back into a chubby little mama whale if I’m not careful.

Except that I’m completely re-wiring my eating habits. In researching diet and fitness magazine pieces for work, I have literally been listening to hotshot trainers and big league food gurus all day long tell me that what you eat is everything.

You can work out until the cows come home, but if you shovel in garbage after that, you are shooting yourself in the Nike-clad foot.

Plus, I’ve been reading two great books that are helping me suss it all out:

The Beauty Detox Solution by Kim Snyder

Revive by Frank Lipman

I’ll write more tomorrow or this weekend about what I’m learning from these two kick-ass wellness guides.

Right now I gotta jet. And go hide me a certain Calypso dress.

Raise your mama-paw if you were the least bit surprised by Wednesday’s piece in the New York Times that essentially says that being chained to an office chair is dangerous to your bottom line.

Last night, as I was slipping into my nightie at, um, 8 o’clock (an indication of how wild my life is), I caught sight of my belly. Already, only about a month post-P90X, my hard-earned ab definition is going buh-bye.

Well, it’s not like I’ve been sticking to my loose plan of incorporating some of the tougher, more-targeted P90X workouts – like Plyometrics and Ab Ripper X – into my fitness regimen.

That’s because I don’t really have a fitness regimen at the moment. I’ve been running a bit, mostly on the weekends (workends! grrr…), but I’m pretty sure that’s better for my brain than my behind.

I got jealous of Hubby this morning because he’s embarking on a second round of P90X after a one-week breather. Given that I have another month of my magazine gig, and a few more workends in front of me, I don’t think I can re-commit to those hour-plus workouts without completely losing my shit because I’m rushing, rushing, rushing around like a loony.

But I do know I have to get my act together. To recover some of my muscle tone while simultaneously hiking into the office AND keeping up with my mama-chores. (If only I had a pair  of “Dust Bunny Blinders” so I wouldn’t obsess too much about the current state of my lovely home…)

Aaargh, I’m getting all stress-y just thinking about it. Game plan, game plan…Mommy needs a game plan.

So after three months, my long and extremely well-documented journey with P90X has kind of sputtered to a halt.

I mean, it was supposed to end. But I completely half-assed my last week, so it wasn’t like some epic moment crossing the finish line, during which I bounced a quarter off my rock-hard belly and cracked open a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon to celebrate.

(Ugh. Do they even still make that stuff? I’m a beer snob, btw. Love all the pretentious “artisanal” Belgian numbers…)

But back to my bod. I don’t have a real game-plan now, which is dangerous from a flab perspective. There are some P90X workouts that I totally love (Legs & Back, oddly) and some that I loathe but see the true value in (Ab Ripper X and Core Synergistics). So those I definitely want to continue doing.

But I also want to run a little. I ran outdoors before drop-off and work today and it was divine. I forgot how much I love it, how it somehow both mellows me out and gives me lots of focused energy. Seriously. After I finish, it’s like I’ve been hit with a tranquilizer gun.

Too bad it really doesn’t do much to shape your body. Ooooooh, did I just say that? Why yes, I did. I’ve known that for forever, but just didn’t want to accept it. Sure, it burns calories, but so do lots of other activities, including doing plyometrics and lifting weights – and those sculpt you, to boot.

For the next eight weeks, I have a lot of work on my plate and plenty o’ stress headed my way. And then, we’re off on a massive road trip to the heartland. So I think, for now, I’ve gotta just mix up my workouts, and go ahead and freaking run if I feel like it. Especially before work.

No matter how you slice it, running is good for my brain. Maybe not for my behind so much. But I’ll worry about that down the road.

I’m gearing up to go back to my guest-editing gig next week, and I’ve decided I need to get insanely organized, wardrobe-wise. Because I have to schlep the Wee Lass to school before work, I’ll have not one second to dilly, dally and dither over what I’m wearing.

Sadness. I excel at dillying, dallying and dithering.

Right now, I’m in full-on add and subtract mode. On the addition front, I nabbed this cute teal Jovovich Hawk top at Target yesterday. Technically, it’s a dress – part of the relaunch of all the designer collaborations that’s been getting so much buzz lately – but there’s no way in hell I’ll be attempting to wear it as such. Perhaps if it were six inches longer. Or I were six years younger…

Still, I’m happy to report that, for once, when I looked at my reflection in the three-way mirror clad in my bra and undies, I felt downright pleased as punch. All my P90X-ing is completely, utterly paying off. So much so that I’m contemplating a second go-round once I wrap the first one in two weeks. We’ll see…

And speaking of my undies, or more specifically my undie drawer, I need to do a ruthless edit. I’ve lost a little weight, and quite a few inches, so there’s really no need to have so much precious real estate taken up by my vast collection of Spanx and Assets, the lower-priced line also designed by Sara Blakeley.

Don’t get me wrong; they’re both great collections. Total confidence-boosters for so many women looking to rein it all in. In fact, I think I read recently that Oprah has an entire room devoted to Spanx. That’s true love.

And that’s also why I’m not chucking my stash wholesale. Rather, I’m gonna bundle up all the bottoms (i.e., the bike shorty numbers that harness a mama’s wayward booty) and put them in storage. Some of the camisoles I’ll keep on hand, especially the nude ones. Those are are great under sheer tops and dresses.

For me, my problem area is definitely south of the torso. And even now, when I’m pretty trim, I still have a total bubble behind in my Gap Always Skinny jeans. And my upper thighs can be a little irksome, which is why I also swear by trouser jeans.

But right now, it’s all under control. As long as I keep up with my endless squats and lunges. And some lower-body move Tony Horton calls Heavy Pants. I just moved up to 10 pound weights for Heavy Pants, but watching this tough chick on YouTube is making me realize what I wimp I am.

At least I’m a happy wimp. And a Spanx-less wimp, to boot.