Getting Pants'ed

Most people wouldn't be psyched about fitting into their sister’s pregnancy pants.  Those people are not me.

When I was home last weekend, my sister approached me timidly and said: “I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I have some dress pants I wore when I was pregnant that don’t fit me anymore." She has shrunk since giving birth and asked if I wanted to try them on.

I said yes, because her pregnancy pants are a size 8.  I haven’t spent much time in size 8 pants since middle school, and even with my recent weight loss I’m still hovering on average around a size 10.  My size 12 dress pants have gotten a little baggy and saggy, so I didn't want to pass up the chance for free pants and the opportunity to skip the entire “shopping for dress pants” process, which is almost as bad as the “shopping for bathing suits” nightmare thanks to fluorescent lighting in three-way mirrors.

I tried them on — THEY FIT!  All four pairs fit like a glove, OK maybe a glove that’s a little tight, but I saw it as something to work towards. A slight muffin top reminds me to eat a salad instead of pasta or French fries for lunch, whereas the extra room in baggy pants seems to grant permission for me to eat with a little leeway.  

The funny thing is that one of the pairs of pants my sister gave me was the exact same pair I already own, but two sizes smaller than the ones hanging in my closet.  When I got back to my apartment and unpacked from my trip, the first thing I did was throw the older, larger pants in the Goodwill pile. It was a great feeling.   

Even better (for my waistline) -- my bags were so packed with new pants that I couldn't fit my cannoli in my carry on! Maybe I'll start aiming for my sister's pre-pregnancy pants next. 

A Real Heartbreak Hill

I've never wanted to run more than I do right at this moment.

I am still in shock after what happened at the Boston Marathon yesterday.  Patriot’s Day is the best day of the year in Boston— morning baseball at Fenway combined with the marathon and its throngs of supporters make for an electric atmosphere. Unless you've been there, it’s hard to explain.  Even though I've moved away, I still woke up on Marathon Monday excited to follow the day’s festivities online.

Four hours after the marathon began, the jubilation turned to terror. After hearing the news of the bombings at the finish line, the only thing I could think of to honor my city from a thousand miles away was to run a few myself. But I can’t because I have a back injury (which feels pretty minuscule in light of yesterday’s events).  So I read the news all night, changed my Facebook profile picture and wore my Red Sox hat.  It brought me a little comfort, as did the friends in Chicago who checked in with me to see if my family was safe.  This morning, the Chicago Tribune ran a touching tribute in its sports section.  I realized that if I can’t be in my home city, I am glad I live here.


Now that 24 hours has passed, the shock has turned to anger— anger that nothing is sacred anymore, not even a 117-year-old road race.  The innocence of this day has been snatched up from Bostonians and the running community.  People came to run— but some didn't walk away, while others may not be able to ever run again.  One of my friends, Mike, said it best when he said: “the day after a marathon your legs are supposed to hurt, not your heart.”

Another friend, Samantha, said it perfectly in a Facebook post this morning:  

“I know it's late, but finally I've thought of words I want to say. The finish line of a race is sacred. It's a place where dreams are both made and accomplished. Where you witness loved ones and complete strangers achieve their goals, with tears in your eyes. And I just feel how dare that sacred ground be attacked so brutally. This was definitely personal. Thinking of you Boston.”

All I could say after the bombs went off was “why would someone do this” but she said everything I have been feeling.  If you've ever run a race, you know the sense of community you get when you pin on your number.  The camaraderie is outstanding.  As is the freedom you feel as your feet hit the pavement and the wind tickles your face as you cruise along the course. 

It makes me sad to think that maybe I’ll never feel that way again. It made me feel even worse when I heard that the second confirmed victim who died in the blast was a 29-year-old woman.

But in the 24 hours after the attack, I have seen nothing but perseverance, fortitude and incredible spirit. The same spirit that lines the streets of Boston on Patriot’s Day. 

While our community has been infiltrated with evil, the moment will be fleeting and the good will far outlast the bad.  There is strength in numbers -- something I have seen at every road race I have ever been a part of.  Even in Chicago, halfway across the country from the attacks, impromptu runs have been organized to honor the Boston victims. It breaks my heart that I can't be a part of it or mourn with the city I love. But I do know this: like all injuries, our great city will heal and bounce back stronger than before. 

We will all run again.  

Light Bulb Moment

I recently read an article written by Harley Pasternak—trainer to the stars—that kind of made me stop and say “I get it!”  The article basically said that if you’re working out and not losing weight, there is a reason.  He wrote that 45 minutes of activity at the gym is not enough to make up for 23 hours and 15 minutes of lying and sitting around. 

For some reason, a light bulb went off in my head and I finally got why magazines and trainers and the like encourage you to get a pedometer and track your steps.   Maybe it was the way Harley outlined the reasons that I finally understood it.  I am one of those people who think that because I work out, I’m going to lose weight and can watch TV all night.

According to Livestrong.com, an individual should walk at least 5,000 steps a day (anything less is considered sedentary and inactive). Someone who walks 10,000 steps can burn up to an extra 3,500 calories a week—the equivalent of one pound.  According to this article, the surgeon general recommends taking 10,000 steps a day.

So I got a pedometer.  How hard could it be, I thought. I consider myself an active person so I assumed I was at least around the recommended steps per day.

I was wrong.

My walks to and from the train and home and work help boost my steps, but only to about 2,500 total for the day. So I needed to figure out how I was going to fill the rest.

-I started pacing around the L platform while waiting for the train to squeeze in some extra steps instead of just standing there.

-The walk from my desk to the bathroom is 100 steps, so I started drinking more water so I would have to get up and use the bathroom more.

-I started walked down to the cafeteria to fill my water bottle instead of filling it at the bubbler ten steps from my desk.  It probably adds at least 300 steps there.

-I have forced myself to take a break at work and walk outside at least once a day—whether it be for lunch or an afternoon stroll. 

-I used to allow myself to take the bus or L to a place if it was more than two stops away. Last week I walked everywhere, like when I went grocery shopping and met a friend for brunch.

All of these things I have done to increase my steps have also added to my quality of life. They’re also things I should already be doing, but somehow I have allowed myself to just get lazy.  I never considered myself a lazy person until I discovered that I was barely reaching the minimum amount of steps required each day.   I usually walk to run errands and take public transportation, so I can’t imagine how people who drive everywhere must be doing with this.

There has been only one day when I have gotten over 10,000 steps, but I am making it my goal to try as hard as I can to get there at least a couple times a week.  Fitting in that many steps is hard!  I’ve turned it into a game, and love to see the numbers go up as I walk.  I am a very goal-oriented person, so when I have a number I need to hit, I operate better.  

Once I get better at increasing my steps, I’m going to treat myself to a Fitbit pedometer (they’re pretty pricey but very intuitive) as a reward—right now I have a $19 one I got on Amazon (they have cheaper ones as well).  Something else for me to work for, and a reward that isn’t food related!

I encourage you all to get a pedometer and start tracking your steps to see how you’re doing. Or at least read Harley’s article to see why you should if I haven’t convinced you!