Last week we took a broad view of life balance as a bicycle journey. We mentioned in particular that the transitions associated with midlife call for re-evaluating the balance that has worked before and taking a hard look at what it calls for now. Today I want discuss the needs of changing bodies.
Few girls my age played sports in school. I became more active after college, and began to hike with friends. In my 30’s I tried running, but stopped after giving birth. When I started again 15 years later, I it was more fun than ever. Then I discovered a condition that limited my heart rate and slowed my pace. Knees and hips may someday complain of the impact and guide me to a walking habit.
These experiences echo in the stories of my peers. Some who were injured as athletes in school have been living with limits for many years. Others are seeing a gradual decline in their Personal Best. Yet others, the “late bloomers,” are discovering the joy of sweat for the first time. In all cases, we are balancing desires, expectations, and goals with the bodies we have now. We test the boundaries, exceed them, and determine whether we are entering a zone of increased capacity or impending damage.
Physical training at any age entails a cycle of exertion and recovery. We push, challenging ourselves to do more; then we stop, and allow the system to rebuild a stronger, faster, more enduring version of itself. At midlife, recovery is especially critical. Not only must we allow for physical recovery, but we need to rebuild our minds and hearts as well. We may need to adjust our version of success and welcome the chance to run or ski or play ball into the second half (or final third) of life at a slower pace, for fewer hours, with more rest built into the mix.
What is the challenge and where is the balance for you? Do you celebrate the capacity you have to move, at whatever level of duration and intensity? Do you respect the real physical changes that call for a re-mix of options and re-definition of Personal Best?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Back on the Bike
Regular readers remember “Flamingo and Bicycle,” the January 26 Reflection that dealt with life balance. We contrasted balancing on one foot (flamingo) with balancing in motion (bicycle). The subject of balance comes up so often, that I am drawn again to the dilemma of staying upright in a changing world.
It begins with a trike. We learn as toddlers to pedal, avoid obstacles, and stop. The first two-wheeler challenges us to start, accelerate, slow, and stop without collapsing. Adult bikes have gears to power us smoothly on changing terrain. Tandem cycles promise that two can ride stronger than one. A cargo bike hauls the new trash can home from Walmart. Recumbents offer the comfort of an armchair on wheels. (I covet a recumbent!) Some recumbents, with three wheels, take us back to the beginning of our travels.
Why take this morning’s trip through the bicycle shop? Balance changes as the circumstances around and within us change. Life is like riding a bicycle through a changing landscape. We may long for a balance that worked in the past, or idealize the balance we envision ahead. In the process, we miss the chance enjoy the present by adapting today.
I was born early in the Baby Boom. Our generation is now hitting midlife head-on, confronting the need to re-balance our lives in myriad ways. Kids move out—and move back in, sometimes with kids of their own. We retire, or wish we could. We lose our jobs, and wish we hadn’t. Bodies change and new health issues arise. Parents need help. What does balance look like now, and how can we get some?
What roles and responsibilities are you balancing? How do you manage both to serve others and to restore your own reserves? Do you pay attention to all dimensions of wellness: physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual? How do you invest your time, money, passion, and energy? Does your bicycle need a trailer? A motor? A padded seat? A new paint job?
The journey from one life stage to another is rich and rewarding if we pay attention to balancing as we go. The alternative is to careen downhill, lose our brakes, blow a tire, and land in a heap, wondering what happened.
Until the next time, ride well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, March 14, 2010
End Task
A recent computer tune-up revealed that my 5-year-old workhorse would benefit from additional RAM. I have not yet invested, and am more and more commonly greeted by a pop-up window and the message: “The program you are using has stopped responding. Click End Task.” Out of RAM.
I recently discovered that Explorer could host not just one, but many simultaneous sign-on pages. I did not have to choose between the newspaper, the weather page, my inbox, Facebook Home Page, or favorite blog. I could have them, all at once! Having all that information in one place...constantly updating itself...uses RAM. It means the screen will often freeze, and the dreaded pop-up will appear.
RAM. Random Access Memory. We take it for granted, in our computers and in ourselves. RAM is the active part of the brain. It takes things in, sorts them out, and responds thoughtfully. Like a computer, my personal RAM often fills up, stalls out, and freezes. Important thoughts, activities, and decisions go unfinished, take longer than they should, or come out garbled because I have filled the space heedlessly. Garbage in, garbage out.
I recently read that the brain can process 60,000 thoughts per day; and, that 90% of those thoughts repeat the ones we had yesterday. Some thoughts gnaw on disappointments, resentments, and failures, as if we could change the past by fretting. Other thoughts obsess with what lies ahead: we plan, we worry, we decide to be happy only if things turn out a certain way. We hold the worry close as if we could control the future by doing so.
I can’t buy more RAM for the brain as I can for the computer. Instead, I must make careful use of the capacity to reflect, evaluate, and decide. I want use my active mind to celebrate the positive and recall the past with gratitude. I want to set a course for the future with confidence and optimism. Most of all, I want to embrace the present. I want to fully absorb the joys of each day and respond creatively to things that don’t turn out as I intended. I want to be alert in the moment of choice so that I can respond with insight and wisdom unburdened by regrets for the past or fears of the future.
Your brain has stopped responding. Press “End Task.” Breathe. Allow the extraneous programs to shut down, one by one. Allow the screen to go blank. Breathe again. Press the button. Re-boot. Bring up a fresh new batch of RAM. Start slowly. Open one program; focus on one task. Close it before opening the next one. Breathe again. Pay attention. Leave the multitasking behind. Be present. See beauty. Offer love. Experience peace.
What works for you when your internal RAM hits overload, lights blink, and the screen freezes? What helps you return, fresh and energized, to the Present Moment?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
I recently discovered that Explorer could host not just one, but many simultaneous sign-on pages. I did not have to choose between the newspaper, the weather page, my inbox, Facebook Home Page, or favorite blog. I could have them, all at once! Having all that information in one place...constantly updating itself...uses RAM. It means the screen will often freeze, and the dreaded pop-up will appear.
RAM. Random Access Memory. We take it for granted, in our computers and in ourselves. RAM is the active part of the brain. It takes things in, sorts them out, and responds thoughtfully. Like a computer, my personal RAM often fills up, stalls out, and freezes. Important thoughts, activities, and decisions go unfinished, take longer than they should, or come out garbled because I have filled the space heedlessly. Garbage in, garbage out.
I recently read that the brain can process 60,000 thoughts per day; and, that 90% of those thoughts repeat the ones we had yesterday. Some thoughts gnaw on disappointments, resentments, and failures, as if we could change the past by fretting. Other thoughts obsess with what lies ahead: we plan, we worry, we decide to be happy only if things turn out a certain way. We hold the worry close as if we could control the future by doing so.
I can’t buy more RAM for the brain as I can for the computer. Instead, I must make careful use of the capacity to reflect, evaluate, and decide. I want use my active mind to celebrate the positive and recall the past with gratitude. I want to set a course for the future with confidence and optimism. Most of all, I want to embrace the present. I want to fully absorb the joys of each day and respond creatively to things that don’t turn out as I intended. I want to be alert in the moment of choice so that I can respond with insight and wisdom unburdened by regrets for the past or fears of the future.
Your brain has stopped responding. Press “End Task.” Breathe. Allow the extraneous programs to shut down, one by one. Allow the screen to go blank. Breathe again. Press the button. Re-boot. Bring up a fresh new batch of RAM. Start slowly. Open one program; focus on one task. Close it before opening the next one. Breathe again. Pay attention. Leave the multitasking behind. Be present. See beauty. Offer love. Experience peace.
What works for you when your internal RAM hits overload, lights blink, and the screen freezes? What helps you return, fresh and energized, to the Present Moment?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Booting Up for Life
This morning, I am clutching a paper towel to my fingertip. I am out of Band-aids (it is not the first time), and I remember why my Lenten observance is to meditate first thing every morning. I want to practice mindfulness. I want to spend more time in the present, and less in the future and the past. That practice would come in handy while slicing onions.
When I went to bed on Fat Tuesday, I did not have a Lenten practice in mind. I make a habit of self-improvement projects, and don’t often use occasions like New Years or Lent to do more or different things than I do the rest of the time. However, when I woke up on Ash Wednesday, a little voice suggested, “practice daily meditation.” My little voice is wise, and I said, “OK.”
Over the years, the first steps of my morning have varied. They almost always begin at the coffee pot. The second step might head for the treadmill or out the door for a pre-dawn run. It might lead to a chair for reading and journaling. More often, it takes me to the computer for e-mail, Facebook, the calendar, and a to-do list. A day that starts (even before coffee) seated quietly in the “space between thoughts,” is something new. The practice has caused me to step back and reflect on engaging with life each day.
The following stream of consciousness from a recent journal entry is entitled, “Booting Up.”
Meditation launches the Present and awareness, falling awake on center. Fireplace and blanket warm the body. Coffee peels back the melatonin. Reading opens the mind with positive thought. Writing makes it my own and embeds the insight. Journaling engages the past with learning and gratitude, the future with intent and trust. E-mail and Facebook engage community, reaching out with inquiry and compassion, encouragement and celebration. Breakfast nourishes. Thinking engages the rational mind; doing engages the world. Physical activity charges the body. Naps restore. Snacks replenish. Happy hour savors and re-connects. In reading, listening, watching I learn and en-joy. The Spirit ignites and in-fuses.
How do you “boot up for life” and set off confidently on the path you intend for the day ahead? Is there anything about mornings that you would like to do differently?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
When I went to bed on Fat Tuesday, I did not have a Lenten practice in mind. I make a habit of self-improvement projects, and don’t often use occasions like New Years or Lent to do more or different things than I do the rest of the time. However, when I woke up on Ash Wednesday, a little voice suggested, “practice daily meditation.” My little voice is wise, and I said, “OK.”
Over the years, the first steps of my morning have varied. They almost always begin at the coffee pot. The second step might head for the treadmill or out the door for a pre-dawn run. It might lead to a chair for reading and journaling. More often, it takes me to the computer for e-mail, Facebook, the calendar, and a to-do list. A day that starts (even before coffee) seated quietly in the “space between thoughts,” is something new. The practice has caused me to step back and reflect on engaging with life each day.
The following stream of consciousness from a recent journal entry is entitled, “Booting Up.”
Meditation launches the Present and awareness, falling awake on center. Fireplace and blanket warm the body. Coffee peels back the melatonin. Reading opens the mind with positive thought. Writing makes it my own and embeds the insight. Journaling engages the past with learning and gratitude, the future with intent and trust. E-mail and Facebook engage community, reaching out with inquiry and compassion, encouragement and celebration. Breakfast nourishes. Thinking engages the rational mind; doing engages the world. Physical activity charges the body. Naps restore. Snacks replenish. Happy hour savors and re-connects. In reading, listening, watching I learn and en-joy. The Spirit ignites and in-fuses.
How do you “boot up for life” and set off confidently on the path you intend for the day ahead? Is there anything about mornings that you would like to do differently?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Closing Ceremonies
We have spent the last two weeks indulging an addiction to Olympic coverage. We have always loved the Games (our first TV came out of its closet every four years), but they attained extra meaning for our family in 2002. We were living in Salt Lake City at the time, and were deeply involved with the host-city experience.
I feel compelled to reflect on the Olympiad. Still, what can I say that has not been said? That has not become a cliché? Let's talk about fears and hospitality.
In Salt Lake and Vancouver (and, no doubt, in Sarajevo and Lillehammer) local citizens expressed mixed feelings about hosting the Games. Yes it was exciting, but there were voices of dismay. It was a costly endeavour; the money should be spent on the poor. Preparation was disruptive: I-15 was all-but impassable with construction for years. Scandals of personal greed dominated the headlines. Fears proliferated: fears of traffic jams, protesters, and partying in the streets; fears of becoming a terrorist target. After six years of public debate and consternation, many of us just wanted it to be over!
It was then, with the Opening Ceremonies, that a Miracle occurred. When the world arrived on its doorstep, the community demonstrated an overflowing hospitality. Adamant naysayers joined in extending the welcome. Volunteers worked long hours in the cold, and locals partied in the streets with their guests. Traffic flowed, and patience prevailed when it failed. Stories of strangers helping strangers flooded the news. People rose to the occasion because the Games, in the long run, brought forth our common humanity. Even though they spoke a different language and represented a different culture, it turned out that, up close, “folks was folks”.
Since 2002, the Olympic spirit is, for me, about more than sport. It about more than the inspiration of athletes who set and meet superhuman goals. It is about more than bouncing back from adversity and being gracious when things don’t work out our way. It is about all of those things, but there is more.
The rest of the Olympic story tells of people willing to set aside opinions and preconceptions, and to embrace the world when it “showed up for dinner.” It is about a generous culture of hospitality that rises to the challenge when the need is evident. I am inspired by that story to hold my own fears at bay, and to open my heart to the unknown with trust in a happy outcome.
What stories, people, and messages from the Winter Games mean the most to you? What do they inspire in your own life?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
I feel compelled to reflect on the Olympiad. Still, what can I say that has not been said? That has not become a cliché? Let's talk about fears and hospitality.
In Salt Lake and Vancouver (and, no doubt, in Sarajevo and Lillehammer) local citizens expressed mixed feelings about hosting the Games. Yes it was exciting, but there were voices of dismay. It was a costly endeavour; the money should be spent on the poor. Preparation was disruptive: I-15 was all-but impassable with construction for years. Scandals of personal greed dominated the headlines. Fears proliferated: fears of traffic jams, protesters, and partying in the streets; fears of becoming a terrorist target. After six years of public debate and consternation, many of us just wanted it to be over!
It was then, with the Opening Ceremonies, that a Miracle occurred. When the world arrived on its doorstep, the community demonstrated an overflowing hospitality. Adamant naysayers joined in extending the welcome. Volunteers worked long hours in the cold, and locals partied in the streets with their guests. Traffic flowed, and patience prevailed when it failed. Stories of strangers helping strangers flooded the news. People rose to the occasion because the Games, in the long run, brought forth our common humanity. Even though they spoke a different language and represented a different culture, it turned out that, up close, “folks was folks”.
Since 2002, the Olympic spirit is, for me, about more than sport. It about more than the inspiration of athletes who set and meet superhuman goals. It is about more than bouncing back from adversity and being gracious when things don’t work out our way. It is about all of those things, but there is more.
The rest of the Olympic story tells of people willing to set aside opinions and preconceptions, and to embrace the world when it “showed up for dinner.” It is about a generous culture of hospitality that rises to the challenge when the need is evident. I am inspired by that story to hold my own fears at bay, and to open my heart to the unknown with trust in a happy outcome.
What stories, people, and messages from the Winter Games mean the most to you? What do they inspire in your own life?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Unwanted Voices: The End
Your comments on recent Reflections show that the unwanted voices of overeating speak to many of us. We have different ways of responding successfully to their call. In some cases, it works to turn down the volume. In others, it helps to dial another station, replacing voices of excess with voices of moderation. In yet others, we may be able to persuade the voices to join us in the quest for a better way.
I loved Jamie’s comment two weeks ago; she associates eating with joy. Her voices are able to distinguish the passing pleasure of over-eating from the genuine joy of eating within the bounds of healthy happiness. She also pointed out that voices shriek in outrage when they feel deprived. A choice to abstain from particular foods must find the inner calm without triggering deprivation. Tricky stuff indeed!
Today I want to highlight one more insight from The End of Overeating by David Kessler: planning, structure, and ritual can be tools for to healthy eating.
Our brains do not make wise and mindful choices in the emotional heat of the moment. When we are tired or stressed, involuntary responses overwhelm the rational mind. It is, therefore, most effective to call on reason when reason is most available—when we are calm and alert.
We can plan our meals, snacks, and treats in advance. We can prepare healthy foods so that they are as convenient to “grab and go” as less healthy ones. We can develop specific strategies for restaurants, potlucks, and happy hours. The key to planning and structure is to use our rational brain to build alternative paths of stimulus and response, then to use those paths consistently enough to build new habits.
Eventually, the healthier choice will become almost as easy to make as the unhealthy one. There will be new voices, and they will advocate on your behalf. “No thank you.” “Just water, please.” “Hold the cheese.” The process of change can take years to become automatic. The old wiring never really falls apart. The old voices may sound pitiful, but they are never silent.
When the balance tips toward healthier automatic behavior, the opportunity for eating with joy expands. We are able to experience food as nourishment, food as delight, and food as friend. We can move beyond food as poison, food as trickster, food as enemy.
As for Reflections, we will now move beyond our four-week focus on food. I have appreciated the dialogue you have generated around this topic. It is encouraging to know how many of us are working creatively to meet the challenge of healthy eating. It helps to have buddies.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I loved Jamie’s comment two weeks ago; she associates eating with joy. Her voices are able to distinguish the passing pleasure of over-eating from the genuine joy of eating within the bounds of healthy happiness. She also pointed out that voices shriek in outrage when they feel deprived. A choice to abstain from particular foods must find the inner calm without triggering deprivation. Tricky stuff indeed!
Today I want to highlight one more insight from The End of Overeating by David Kessler: planning, structure, and ritual can be tools for to healthy eating.
Our brains do not make wise and mindful choices in the emotional heat of the moment. When we are tired or stressed, involuntary responses overwhelm the rational mind. It is, therefore, most effective to call on reason when reason is most available—when we are calm and alert.
We can plan our meals, snacks, and treats in advance. We can prepare healthy foods so that they are as convenient to “grab and go” as less healthy ones. We can develop specific strategies for restaurants, potlucks, and happy hours. The key to planning and structure is to use our rational brain to build alternative paths of stimulus and response, then to use those paths consistently enough to build new habits.
Eventually, the healthier choice will become almost as easy to make as the unhealthy one. There will be new voices, and they will advocate on your behalf. “No thank you.” “Just water, please.” “Hold the cheese.” The process of change can take years to become automatic. The old wiring never really falls apart. The old voices may sound pitiful, but they are never silent.
When the balance tips toward healthier automatic behavior, the opportunity for eating with joy expands. We are able to experience food as nourishment, food as delight, and food as friend. We can move beyond food as poison, food as trickster, food as enemy.
As for Reflections, we will now move beyond our four-week focus on food. I have appreciated the dialogue you have generated around this topic. It is encouraging to know how many of us are working creatively to meet the challenge of healthy eating. It helps to have buddies.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Unwanted Voices: Part Three
It is Valentine’s Day. The voices demand something sweet for (and from) your sweetheart. They remind you that a treat is a measure of devotion. The voices and a heart-shaped box of chocolates convey a deeply conditioned, conspiratorial message: food is love. Sweet food, and lots of food are the best kind of love.
It begins at the beginning. As infants we depend on loving adults to provide food for our needs. We learn from the earliest moments that love and nourishment come as a package deal. It starts with the basics of food as survival, and evolves quickly into food as a treat. “I baked your favorite cookies.” “Great report card, let’s stop at Dairy Queen.” “What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?”
As we grow into adulthood, food is entwined with courtship, and the identity of eating and affection grows stronger yet. In our early years, Lyle and I not only saw eating as a shared pleasure, but relished the chance to share special foods. On emerging from a long hike, we gravitated to beer and ice cream. Dinner out was usually a ”supreme" deep-dish pizza: large, split two ways. We relished the rush of eating to excess, and enjoyed the mildly stimulating guilt that resulted. We gleefully observed all the candy festivals, from Halloween through Easter, and gifts to one another were often packaged in sugar.
Thirty years older and wiser, we have (with great effort and many false starts) re-defined the link between our love and food. Connecting over a single beer has become a daily ritual that we honor and appreciate. Going out to eat means vegetarian thin-crust pizza: small, split two ways. Ice cream is a monthly indulgence, and a single scoop or small sundae fills our need for a treat. A small, quality chocolate dessert for Valentines’s Day replaces the giant Costco pie designed for a family reunion. Best of all, our love for one another has evolved into mutual support for taking the moderate road, rather than serving as an excuse to throw wise choice to the winds.
Food and love are, indeed, connected on Valentine’s Day, and for the rest of the year as well. As love matures, it recognizes that food is not only an important source of short-term pleasure but also the key to long-term health and well-being. True love looks to the long term and chooses the balance accordingly. The voices can, with time and persistence, be persuaded to agree.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
It begins at the beginning. As infants we depend on loving adults to provide food for our needs. We learn from the earliest moments that love and nourishment come as a package deal. It starts with the basics of food as survival, and evolves quickly into food as a treat. “I baked your favorite cookies.” “Great report card, let’s stop at Dairy Queen.” “What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?”
As we grow into adulthood, food is entwined with courtship, and the identity of eating and affection grows stronger yet. In our early years, Lyle and I not only saw eating as a shared pleasure, but relished the chance to share special foods. On emerging from a long hike, we gravitated to beer and ice cream. Dinner out was usually a ”supreme" deep-dish pizza: large, split two ways. We relished the rush of eating to excess, and enjoyed the mildly stimulating guilt that resulted. We gleefully observed all the candy festivals, from Halloween through Easter, and gifts to one another were often packaged in sugar.
Thirty years older and wiser, we have (with great effort and many false starts) re-defined the link between our love and food. Connecting over a single beer has become a daily ritual that we honor and appreciate. Going out to eat means vegetarian thin-crust pizza: small, split two ways. Ice cream is a monthly indulgence, and a single scoop or small sundae fills our need for a treat. A small, quality chocolate dessert for Valentines’s Day replaces the giant Costco pie designed for a family reunion. Best of all, our love for one another has evolved into mutual support for taking the moderate road, rather than serving as an excuse to throw wise choice to the winds.
Food and love are, indeed, connected on Valentine’s Day, and for the rest of the year as well. As love matures, it recognizes that food is not only an important source of short-term pleasure but also the key to long-term health and well-being. True love looks to the long term and chooses the balance accordingly. The voices can, with time and persistence, be persuaded to agree.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
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