This is default featured post 1 title

Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.

This is default featured post 2 title

Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.

This is default featured post 3 title

Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.

This is default featured post 4 title

Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.

This is default featured post 5 title

Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Staying Focused For The Long Haul (and some vehicle news)


My new used Jeep and I bonded on our maiden voyage to P’burgh today.

I bought an ’07 Jeep Liberty, and she has 15,000 miles, a sunroof, 6-cylinder/3.7L engine, heated leather seats, 6-disc CD player, Sirius, tinted windows, theft protection, and my favorite: keyless entry. I know that sounds silly to be my favorite, but with the kind of wrist arthritis I have, keyless entry is a godsend. Old Paint the Cherokee had very difficult locks and I cringed every time I had to lock her up and open her back up. Now it’s a breeze.

This new Jeep has a little different temperament than Old Paint, and she’s definitely more high falutin’ and bitchy (in a good diva way) due to her very cool heated leather seats. What cracks me up is that we paid less for her than we did for no-bells-and-whistles-just-straight-up-Jeep Old Paint in 1998. Go figure. She’s got power and style and I’m sure we’ll be BFF in a few hundred miles.

Thanks everyone for your kind comments about Old Paint, and especially for sharing your own car stories. I know a car is just an object, technically, but really? Cars are so much more. They are a big part of our lives, like our beds or favorite kitchen utensils. We spend a LOT of time in our cars (and beds and using kitchen utensils) and they are an intricate part of our existence.

Kinda like our bodies. Which leads me to my real blog and weight loss/maintenance and my answer to reader Lee’s questions from a few weeks ago.

Lee wrote: “Did you just make your mind up to lose the weight and stick to it and never struggle with it again? Or do you still struggle? When you were losing the weight, did you ever wonder if you would make it? Did you ever lose focus and have to mentally re-program yourself again?”

There are several layers underpinning these questions, so I’ll try to answer them separately.

I did just make up my mind to lose weight this last time (god knows I’d made up my mind many times before). But it was a decision culled from a long, thought-out mental process.

When I began losing weight this last time, I knew it had to be the last time or I would die young. But I didn’t approach it as physically as I do now. That unfolding came later. Here’s what I mean (and you might recognize this as part of the piece I wrote for CNN):

I had so many feelings floating around in my head when I weighed 300 pounds – inadequacy, anger, and overall helplessness. I vacillated for months between accepting my body as it was and choosing to lose weight. I journaled tough questions: How did I feel about my body. How much did I love myself? Was I worth changing for? It was difficult and often uncomfortable work, I won’t lie, but once I was honest with myself and became better acquainted with the emotions that bothered me most, I was ready to lose weight.

Working through those issues, or at least confronting them, left me better prepared for the “tough love” it took to discipline that weak voice inside that said, “This is hard. I want chocolate (or fries or animal crackers or any other simple carb you can imagine). Feed me.” I learned to say no to myself and I committed to learning new behaviors that helped me change “I can’t” to “I will.” This is what helped me stick to it.

Many of us have decided at some point in our lives to change something – jobs, relationships, residences, and weight – only to get part of the way in and get bored or find the process hard or dull. It’s easy to forget our original intention and lose momentum. Other feelings and experiences get in the way and time erodes the original excitement or motivation. How do you recapture that initial “thing” that pushed you over the edge to say, “I can do it! I WILL do it!”

For me, it was always keeping one very important aspect in mind: my health.

Yes, I struggled with weight loss sometimes. I still struggle to maintain once in awhile. But it’s mostly a mental fight, not a physical one. I’ve developed tools – mostly mindfulness and meditation – to help me step back, breathe, and recognize those times I was in a position to jeopardize my health goals.

Around the time Lee asked me her questions, Debby posted in her blog, Debby Weighs In, how she sometimes finds herself comparing her body to people who are years younger than she is. She wrote, “…on my way out to the car after work, I had a thought that was more than a thought – it was like a deep feeling. And it was, ‘Who do you think you are? You are a 54-year-OLD woman. It’s ridiculous for you to be trying to work out and build muscles. You will never look like those young firm girls. You look like a fool.’”

I posted this comment: “I think those same things, too, sometimes, particularly when I work out in the gym. My gym is the student rec center at our local university so I'm surrounded by nubile 20-year-olds for 90 minutes. What I've done is changed my way of looking at my workouts and what I want from them. I will never have the body of a 20-year-old, but I can have the strongest, most healthy 45-year-old body. Right now, at our age, it's so important to build muscle and strong bones so we're not falling down when we're 80 and breaking our hips. The body I have right here, right now, is the one I'm taking into old age, and by god I'm going to do everything I can to insure I'm the healthiest old lady I can be.”

If you don’t have any physical ailments right now and are in the process of losing weight, I can see how it would be hard to use health as a stimulus or motivation to continue your journey. However, I would challenge you to see into the future. Where do you want to be 5, 10 or 20 years from now? Will you have grandchildren you want to keep up with? Is there travelling you’d like to do without having to worry about your weight? A future health goal can be just as motivating as a current health goal.

For me, getting to and staying the size I am gives me the best possible health advantage. Keeping my wrists strong through strength training helps me open doors and jars of pickles and that impossible plastic packaging on electronic devices. Keeping my legs strong insures I won’t have to have both of my knees replaced next week. Keeping my shoulders strong insures that despite rotator cuff tears and biceps tendon tears, my arms can lift and toss and cuddle my grandchildren without fear of dropping them.

As for my heart and arteries and all those other internal organs, getting to and staying at the weight I am reduces my chance of heart disease, stroke, diabetes and other diseases.

In those times when I could have given in to some food that would derail me, I kept my liver and kidneys and heart and knees and shoulders in mind and said no….MOST of the time. I am NOT perfect in any way, shape or form. But it is always my original intention – health – that I keep in the forefront of my thinking and decision making process. Why am I doing this? What do I hope to accomplish?

Fall in love with your intention, burn it in your brain. Love it and believe in it even when you’re tired and bored and unsure. It’s the only way I’ve found to struggle less and to stay focused.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

“Goodbye, Old Paint, I’m A-Leavin’ Cheyenne”

She was a good friend. Reliable and tough. But I cleaned her out and sent her off to that great auto parts yard in the sky.

I’ve driven my 1995 Jeep Cherokee longer than I’ve been married. We bought her in July 1998, three months before the wedding.

It was a leap of faith, buying her. I drove an ’87 POS Chevy Cavalier, but it was MY POS – the only thing I owned and could afford on my journalist’s salary. We needed a trade-in to buy the Cherokee, but I was reluctant to give up my POS for a car that would be in my not-yet-husband’s name. (FYI: Banks laughed hysterically when they saw my social security number on loan applications.) What if we broke up? Didn’t get married? Larry promised me I could keep the new car if that happened, but I’d been promised many things in the past by seemingly trustworthy men only to be faked out and left empty-handed.

Against my better judgment (not that I had a lot of better judgment in the first place), I signed away my little POS for $500 and we drove home in the Cherokee.

And what a ride it’s been.

Both of my girls learned how to drive in the Jeep. She’s been across the country a few times and gotten me out of more snow and mud than any car could have. She got me to Pittsburgh safely in the middle of a rainy night when Cassie was in labor with Claire. She’s been thrown up in (not by me, but by our four-legged creatures), spilled on (OK, that would be by me…she had no cup holders), dinged up, scratched, peed on (again, the four-legged creatures PLUS a few two-legged college students), bumped, dented and welded back together. She’s seen me through some tough times, let me cry in her, beat her steering wheel and crank her sound system. It’s a good thing she can’t talk. (To read a more about Old Paint, see my blog posts: The Tale of the Flat Tire and There’s Nothing Like A Good Jeep.)

Old Paint was also part of my decision to lose weight and was a gauge for how much I’d lost. I was seriously considering a seatbelt extension at 300 pounds, and my stomach rubbed the steering wheel. As I lost weight, I watched my belly inch further and further away from the steering wheel, and I required less and less seatbelt. It was as exciting as buying smaller clothes!
Old Paint’s sitting in our mechanic’s parking lot. Underbelly rust finally got the best of her. Our mechanic said if we tried to drive her again, something major – like, oh, say, the transmission – would fall out the minute we went over a bump. It would cost thousands to fix her up, so like a good old dog in pain, it’s time to put her down. We’ll get $150 for her parts, but to me, she’s still priceless.

Cleaning her out, I found remnants of the past buried in the glove box: Carlene’s broken Fugee’s CD, buttons from Cassie’s softball and cheerleading days, the receipt from when we bought her, and the service record from her previous owner, a lady named Margaret from Millville, NJ. I also found my Neil Young “Decade” CD – yay! – and three pairs of sunglasses.

We’re going shopping today for another vehicle. I’ve got my eye on another Jeep. A blue one, actually. We’ll see if she feels as good as Old Paint, although it would be unfair of me to compare. She was one of a kind and I miss her already. I hope this new vehicle has soul, though. I don’t mind driving my husband’s Subaru, but it’s his car and I have no real connection to it. This new one (well, actually, we’re buying used again) will be mine. I hope we are still friends in 11 years.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

“Love Too Good”….Answers Before Questions

I was in Eddie Bauer on Friday when I heard Grace Slick singing a song I remembered vaguely from a long (long) time ago, and I was strangely happy and sad at the same time. I remembered some of the words and told my daughter, who was shopping with me, about how it had been years since I’d heard the song. But it was playing softly, and I couldn’t pinpoint where and when I’d heard it or why it made me feel so in discord. I said I’d Google it later and we went to the next store.

The song stuck in my head, in bits and pieces, all the way home and throughout the weekend, nagging me when I went to sleep, there when I woke up. I kept hearing Grace Slick singing the line, “But can’t you see that I’m no good…” (FYI: That's Grace Slick, not me, in that photo :))

Today I went outside to measure our fence with that song in my head. I was only going to be out for a few minutes. Mid measure, a neighbor came over with a plant – a decorative grass that she had to divide because it was taking over the lavender in her garden. She asked if I wanted it because she hates to let living things die in a compost heap. I understood and told her I’d find a good home for it. I asked if she’d like some oregano that was threatening the coreopsis and Shasta daisy in my garden. She said yes, and so after measuring the fence, I dug up a third of my oregano and put it in an ice cream bucket. I figured since I was there and had my shovel and trowel, I’d dig up one of the hidden coreopsis plants and replant it in another garden. Well, then, why not take out a bunch the sage that was overtaking my lavender and replant it along the garage? And, oh heck, weed and water the beds and pots and trim a bush and sweep the garage and feed the birds and…oh yeah…repot the decorative grass my neighbor gave me.

Two hours later, I went back in the house, dirty, sweaty, hungry AND with that damn song in my head.

“But you can’t see that I’m no good”…It meant something to me at some time. So I grabbed some food and Googled Jefferson Starship, which came up with “Love Too Good.” That was it! I downloaded it on iTunes, clicked play, and suddenly I was 15 years old again. Here are some of the lyrics:

I’ve opened the door
I’ve set you free
But can’t you see
That I’m no good
I’m sorry

Sorry
Baby I still love ya
Sorry
And I worry about it
Sorry
The hurt I put on you
You can do without it

Love too good
You gotta
Love too good
You gotta
Love too good
For a woman like me, baby

If you look up “Lynn Haraldson” in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure this song would come up as a definition. Throughout high school and much of my adult life, I saw myself as a walking piece of hurt just waiting to envelop my next victim, never feeling good enough, never allowing someone else to love me for me. No wonder that song’s been going through my head all weekend. It was a huge reminder of how I’ve lived much of my life in that kind of oppressive self-view.

I finished lunch and decided to take a bath. Not just any bath. A “I really need and want and deserve this” bath. The kind where you pull out all the stops. 1) It was the middle of the day; 2) I grabbed a glass of wine; 3) lit candles even though the sun was shining; 4) used the good bubble bath and body wash; 5) listened to Robert Plant and Alison Krauss; and 6) kept filling the tub with hot water as the water got cooler. I soaked and relaxed and thought about the teenage/early adult me, trying to separate her from the me now.

I compared losing weight and maintaining to Jeopardy, where we often get the answers before we know the question. We can choose to ignore that answer nagging us in the back of our heads, and I suspect many of us do without knowing it, or we can address it. One of my Jeopardy categories this weekend was “The Past.” The question was, “But you can’t see that I’m no good.” Time was ticking. I’d bet a true daily double and had to figure out the question or I’d go broke.

“What is…‘What negative self-opinion did Lynn have of herself for most of her life?” I replied.

“Correct!” said Alex Trebek. And we walked off into the sunset, hand in hand and…wait, that’s another fantasy for another day.

See where a little self-esteem will get you? heehee

Anyway, I’m glad to now have that mystery solved. The song is still going through my head, but not in a teenage angst-ridden way. It’s not a workout song by any means, but it’s good to have those reminders along the way, the ones that keep you grounded to your past. The ones that are no longer definitive, but are either comparative or in contrast to the way things are now.

So what answers are nagging you? Please tell me I’m not the only one who hears Grace Slick in her head all weekend….

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

“The Toils We Put Ourselves Through!”

Three days. That’s all the time I took off from exercise, but it feels like it’s been three weeks. 60 may be the new 40, but for me, 45 is the new 80!

Combine the last five days’ tension, excitement and lack of sleep with a literal pain in ass (damn sciatica), the elliptical, arc trainer and a 19-month-old and you get one achy Grammy Lynn (emphasis on grandma).

Anyhoo….I’m not blogging today to bitch about my old body. OK, maybe a little. But really what I want to share is a follow-up email I received from a reader, Julie, who wrote a comment several months ago in a blog in which I wrote how my arm surgeon wants to fuse both of my wrists. Her question was how much weight did I lose before certain body parts stopped hurting so much. She was contemplating ankle fusion surgery and she wondered if losing weight would help ease her pain.

This follow-up email amazes me for so many reasons. First, let me share it with you:

“I've gotten myself from 311 to 256 and can tell a great difference in how the rest of me feels. Just not that ankle – stubborn joint! I'll be having joint fusion surgery in late July, and am already beginning the ‘how to maintain and/or keep losing while recuperating’ planning that will carry me into the fall.

“The decision to go ahead with the surgery was interesting. I was always afraid that I would have to choose the surgery because I was unable to lose weight. Being successful with weight loss freed me to make a decision that was based on wanting a pain free day, rather than being resigned to the option because of my failure. Same outcome – very different mindsets.

“Now, I recognize I have miles to go with a goal weight in the 180s (my 5'11" frame puts me at or near healthy BMI there). Funny, as a three-sport athlete in high school I weighed 176, and thought of myself as fat, overweight, obese, incredibly yucky. Now I know that weight was within a healthy BMI for my height and frame size. The toils we put ourselves through!”

Wow! That covers a whole lotta changed-mind/changed-attitude territory. Julie not only decided to do what she felt was best for her body based on what is best for her body and NOT what she felt was a weakness or lack, but she’s got a plan to stay at or keep losing while recuperating. Confidence will buy you a lot of open-mind real estate, my friends.

I love, too, how she can look back at her past body and realize that what she saw in the mirror and how her head interpreted that image was not what was real. She was a healthy body weight in high school, strong and agile, and yet what she saw was fat.

Julie is right. “The toils we put ourselves through!”

In her blog today, Lyn over at Escape From Obesity talked about beauty and the disease of obesity. She said, “There IS beauty in every body. But, to me, the most beautiful thing is a body... any body, even as imperfect as mine... that is as healthy as it *can* be. That's something we are all capable of: building strength and grace and health, day by day, step by step.”

That, to me, is what Julie has done – discovered her own past beauty and recognized her own strength at her weight now.

I really believe the best decisions we make about all aspects of our lives originate in how we perceive our entire selves. The more positively we view our bodies and the more we trust our innate wisdom, the better decisions we will make. Ankle fusion, wrist fusion, whatever it is we need to “fix” will be easier and recovery less difficult if we go in with a plan that is rooted in love of self and not in fear of or condemnation of self.

It’s emails like Julie’s and reading blogs like Lyn’s and Lori’s and Mara’s and Shauna’s and Debby’s and 45’s and Shelley’s and Miz’s and Vickie’s and Cranky’s and Charlie’s and everyone else’s that reconfirms for me every day that this weight-loss/weight-maintenance/fitness experience I live in day by day is more common than not, more good than bad.

Yeah, my body hurts a bit tonight. It’s getting older, doesn’t recover as quickly. But it doesn’t mean I throw out the baby with the bathwater. There is more right than wrong going on. I just have to look for it is all.

Sitting on the deck on this quasi sunny day, I’m surrounded by my beautiful garden and potted plants. The tomatoes have grown a foot! So has the basil and cilantro. The oregano is threatening to take over the daisies and mums, and the Asiatic lilies are just about to bloom. The dogs are happy, there’s a purple finch at the feeder, and my neighbor isn’t making obnoxious sounds with his power tools. There is food in the cupboards, clean clothes in the drawers and the porch is vacuumed (yes, vacuumed…gotta love Astroturf).

So I’m a little stiff? At least I can still move, right?

And when I can’t, I can trust that I’ll have a plan.

You know I couldn't leave you without a new favorite photo of my favorite granddaughter and favorite grandson. Claire loves touching her daddy's playoff beard. Go Pens! And Luca, well, some day he'll grow into his nook.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Let The Day Begin

Before the chaos of another day begins, I wanted to thank you all for your warm wishes and congratulations on the birth of grandbaby Luca. He’s quite a little peanut.

My daughter Carlene and I have been holding down the fort here at Luca’s mom and dad’s house, namely watching g-baby Claire and cooking and freezing meals so Cassie and Matt can settle into life with two children without having to think too much about what to have for dinner.

Watching Claire, I’m reminded why MizFit calls her daughter The Tornado. I bought her a tricycle yesterday, and some friends gave me their sandbox so I also bought sand and filled it up. Claire wanted to ride her trike, then play in the sandbox, then ride her trike, then play in the sandbox, then ride her trike… Then she’d see her stroller in the garage and she’d sit in it and yell something that meant, “Hey! Push me around!” and so we’d go for little walks or I’d race her around in figure eights in the driveway. It takes a lot of energy to be Claire, but it takes even more to be her caretaker.

I don’t have time to ponder too much in this blog entry since Ms. Thang will be awake soon, but in the few quiet moments of this morning, I’m grateful once again to my 300-pound self for taking that first step down the scale. Often we chastise our past selves or wallow in the “How could I?”s or “What was I thinking?”s instead of looking at the feelings and emotions underlying our lives at that time. I was still a kind and loving person at 300 pounds. I wouldn’t have been able to chase around a toddler like I do now, but that doesn’t give me the right to beat up on what was. And so I choose to pay her homage and to thank her for looking out for me.

Thanks again for all of your support and kindnesses, not just as it pertains to Luca, but to my blogging and weight-loss/maintenance efforts. We all need support in whatever journey we’re on. I’m glad to have you along on mine.

Luca and Aunt Carlene

Almost running out of steam

Matt, Cassie, Luca, and Grammy Lynn hanging on to Steam Engine Claire

Friday, May 22, 2009

I Know I Just Posted, But...It's a BOY!

My grandson, Luca Matthew, was born at 9:45 tonight. He is 7 pounds, 11 ounces and he and his mother are fabulous!! I will meet him tomorrow, just before Claire and I go buy sandbox sand. Oh, life....it's so malleable.

G-baby Is A Few Hours Away

I’m sitting on the deck at my daughter and son-in-law’s house. Claire is bathed and in bed. Her mother is in the hospital in labor.

We weren’t expecting g-baby #2 without induction, but this kid is already a sneaky enigma. He or she decided to start coming out around 10:45 this morning, despite Cassie’s doctor’s insistence that the baby wouldn’t come out on its own within a week.

I hope we have a birth by the time you’re reading this, but beforehand, I wanted to write about how this day has been a walk….no, SPRINT….down memory lane.

I was supposed to be in Pittsburgh for the day. A “one more day with just the girls” before the new baby. But when I got here, Carlene told me she was timing Cassie’s contractions and that they were coming 7-10 minutes apart. I had with me only the clothes on my back, my BlackBerry, and a Tupperware of soup. I was definitely not Grammy Ready.

Enter Grandpa Larry.

We have two cars – a newer model Subaru something or other and a ’95 Jeep Cherokee (my favorite vehicle ever). The Jeep isn’t allowed out of Clarion anymore since a hole appeared in the catalytic converter. However, in an emergency, such as the birth of a grandchild, we would allow it out of the county. Of course today it decided to have a sticky throttle and something wrong with its transmission. Thank god Larry knew of the one rental car place in Clarion and called to reserve a car. We’re now the proud renters of a shiny black Cobalt for the weekend. He packed my bag, my computer, my camera, face lotion, and toothpaste and brought it to P’burgh.

He was only here for an hour, but I really appreciated that hour. We took Claire for a little walk, but afterwards while she played in her sandbox, Larry watched her so I could get her dinner ready. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that alone. It’s been 25 years since I was a pregnant 21-year-old mother of a 20-month old and about to give birth. Tonight I have renewed empathy for the long-ago me, and a new respect for my daughter, who will soon follow in my footsteps and be mothering two children in diapers.

I made Claire a chicken breast with a little olive oil and tarragon, green beans, black beans and for dessert, a fruit pop. In between cooking for and feeding her, I roasted myself some mushrooms and steamed an artichoke. I ate the mushrooms with Claire sitting on my lap and coloring, and I ate the artichoke, cold, after she had a bath and went to bed. I’m finally sitting down and eating a bowl of soup. I’m too excited to eat, too wired to sleep. Grandbaby will be here soon.

The love I have for Claire is enormous. I’m sure many of you can relate with your own grandkids/kids. I know I’ll love this new baby, too, but it’s still not real. I’ll let you know tomorrow how it all turns out. I just needed to get this part out, some photos out there, to document this moment. Claire and I have a big day tomorrow. She meets her new sister or brother and I my new grandbaby. We also have to buy sandbox sand and play in the pool and buy a few groceries. I’ll be in no mood to eat again tomorrow, I’m sure. Heck, I’ll probably forget! That doesn’t happen often, my friends. Not often at all.
Claire puts a hat on Grammy Lynn



Claire assesses her handiwork




Twitter Delicious Facebook Digg Stumbleupon Favorites More