Fitness and Fiction

I think there are a couple of destructive attitudes that exist out there about fitness that get in the way not only of realism but also are missed opportunities for character depth and development.

Attitude One: It's good genes, is all.
Um, no.
A very good friend of mine a very, very long time ago gave my DH a dirty look when he mentioned something about physical fitness and said, to paraphrase, "Well it's easy for you. You've got good genes."
It's never easy, even with good genes. As the years have gone by, my DH and I have to work harder (and eat less) to stay in reasonable shape. And we are not in particularly good shape. I try to look at my workouts as tricks I'm training my body to do, rather than view it as a routine, because routines are boring and never, ever end. For example, the latest trick I'm trying to teach my body is to be able to push up with my hands under my shoulders, flat-backed, from a position where I'm flat against the floor. There's not much leverage from that position. I can do it once if I arch my back a little initially, but that's cheating. After my morning attempt (failure) I usually do some plank exercises in hopes that the next morning, I'll be able to do a real one. And after I've done a real one, I'd like to do, say, five, and then I'll make up some other weird goal for my upper body. For abs, I'm working on a full body belly roll. And for my dex/aerobics, I'm learning how to jump rope again. I used to be pretty good ... when I was eight years old. Now, not so much.
Anyway, even those of us with decent genes can't slack off, so neither can our fictional characters. And many of them don't have gyms to go to, or even a culture that embraces exercise. So either they're going to be engaging in some sort of physical labor, or walking or horseback riding everywhere, or doing some other sort of practical training where there's an obvious pay off.* It's not going to be auto-magic. And by practical, I mean life-saving training where the goal may not necessarily be to look buff, but to stay alive. As the beautiful quote in Zombieland goes, "The first rule of Zombieland is cardio."

Attitude Two: Well, fictional characters have all their off screen time to get into shape and stay in shape, or they can do it with a montage.
Yes, but if it's a daily thing, and there's a lot of variety or a ritualistic quality to it, there's opportunity to show what your characters are made of. Some of them may be the equivalent of gym bunnies and work on their bodies all day, while others could do a short stint of intense exercise and then they're done for the day. Either way, it doesn't have to be some automatic thing to blow off. They should work hard, and be punished or rewarded accordingly. (Don't forget your overuse injuries!) By the way, new research shows that ten minutes of intense exercise a day has the same benefits as hanging out on the treadmill for hours reading a magazine. Sweet! But it has to be intense. So give them an excuse to do something intense every day, or make it part of their training routine, and create some consequences and characteristics that carry over to your story, and see what happens. Three letters. MIB. His fitness and spirit carries through the whole first movie. It's a beautiful thing.

Failing that, consider giving a character an average or even overweight body. Why not? They can still be attractive. In The Ladies' Number One Detective Agency, the main character is 'of tradition build' and is very desirable. We can celebrate health in all different sizes, a full range of capabilities and disabilities in our characters, and have it make sense. Which reminds me, remember, a lot of folks in wheelchairs are athletes too. It's not all about the chair. It's about the person in the chair.

There's a huge variety of awesome humanity out there. If the Phantom of the Opera can be seductive, than anyone can be.

I guess what I'm suggesting, ultimately, is that realism doesn't have to be a drag, any more than real exercise has to be a drag. I love my exercise time (when I get around to it. Ahem.) That's me time. And for those that don't ... you don't have to be Arnold or Demi to be sexy, healthy, happy and effective. Neither do your fictional characters. Give the reality a chance on the page and see what happens, just for fun. There are zillions of sexy long-haired whatevers out there in fiction who get their sleek, fit bodies for free. Dare to be different. Dare to be closer to life, and see what truths you reveal in your story that might not have turned up if you hadn't thought about physicality beyond a description of height and eye color.

And that super-fit guy with the lightning reflexes? There are few things that will gut him faster than not being strong enough to succeed when he's the strongest thing around. Then we'll get to see his real strength, and that's powerful stuff to see on the page, and in real life.

*One of the most painfully laughable scenes I've ever seen on exercise was in Cave Dwellers where the characters had rigged up a weight machine with rough rope, pulleys and rocks. WTF? He's a sword-slinger! You don't think his arms would be strong enough just from that? And he can't afford to be muscle bound. Oh for pity's sake ... but at least they were trying to explain why he looked like a body builder, I guess. Still. Oh. My. Gawd. That was so silly. Conan the Barbarian? Way better. Just saying. Although, it would have made more sense if that wheel wasn't in the middle of nowhere. It would have made more sense if it was in the middle of town or at least near a town and they were grinding wheat or something. Still, better than rock weights. A lot, lot better.

Running

When I was a spry nineteen year old, my sister began her first term in college and moved in with me on special dispensation. Normally the college required first term students to live in the dorms, but they could live with family if the place was close enough to campus. Later we took in one of my sister's best friends, who several years later passed away in a single-car accident. (She fell asleep at the wheel.) In those days, at least how I remember them, we had good times.

One of the things my sister did was join crew. To be part of the team, you had to go running a certain distance every day. To help her out, and because I'd gained my freshman fifteen (and some) I promised to join her at least every other day.

So we went running around, usually after dark because of our schedules. I'd always hated running until I started running with her. We'd joke around, talk about stuff, and challenge each other. When she couldn't run on a given night, I missed it enough that I went out on my own. And it was great. I started to feel truly alive, and light--not just in weight but in spirit, like I could go on forever (though while I was actually running I felt like a lead butt.)

Then one day, when my sister got a bit ahead of me on the big, last-stretch hill that we lived on, something in my knee went ping. It wasn't a particularly sharp ping, but I stopped running and started to walk, and then limp, and then found I couldn't really bend my leg much.

By the time I got to the apartment my knee had swollen up. I thought I'd snapped something, but it turned out to be less serious, but at the same time, more extensive damage. By running on pavement, and not just any pavement but sidewalk cement which is the worst, I'd turned the normally smooth surface under my kneecap into a rough road full of potholes.

It took a lot of ibuprofen, months of physical therapy and rebuilding to get my knee to bend again, and then another couple more months to walk without a limp. The doc told me that I'd probably need knee surgery by the time I reached forty.

Well, here I am at 42, and I'm running again. No surgery, just the application of lessons learned and reaping the benefits of years of keeping my legs, especially my knees, in the best shape that I could. I try as much as possible to do 'silent running'--trying to run quietly as a measure of how much impact my joints are taking. I also practice good alignment--feet, ankles and knees all pointed in the right direction. And last, although I'm forced to run on pavement most of the time because of our local roads, when conditions allow I take breaks from asphalt running by running on the shoulder wherever it was recently mowed and flat enough.

I'm not there yet, but I'm looking forward to feeling light again. I've taken up running since college a couple of times, and stopped, and started and stopped. I don't know how long I'll stick with it this time, but I have a new incentive.

The boy wants to be able to run an 8 minute mile. We've worked him down to about nine and a half minutes on the flat, about eleven and a half on the grueling hills around our house. I love running with him. We joke around, challenge each other, and talk about stuff ....

Accomplishment

I was watching "Pride and Prejudice" (the newer version) again.  Caroline asks if Elizabeth wants to take a turn about the room.  They'd been talking about accomplished young women, and Lizzie noted that "And it is a small kind of accomplishment, I suppose." (To take a turn about the room after sitting for a long time.)

To someone like Lizzie, who loves walking and walks everywhere, taking a turn around the room has got to seem silly.  To Caroline it's a ploy.  But thinking about accomplishments in general ...

For someone in really poor health, just standing up is really difficult, if not impossible.  People in really good health look down on this kind of thing all the time.  They say things like, how could someone let themselves get that bad, and so on.  This attitude provides a very handy excuse to not even try.  It's too late, there's no point, I'll never be healthy (which may be true for some--but this is where self-honesty has to be at it's best.  Is there a diagnosis, or a mental block?  Can you and your doctor work as a team to get you better, if not all the way to prime health for your age?)  If I try, I'll just look stupid.  I am healthy, I'm just big-boned.  I should be able to look any way I want, be any way I want, and people shouldn't judge me (which is true, except it shouldn't be an excuse to give up unless there's a medical reason for the situation.)  I'm truly happier this way.  (Which is great!  As long as it isn't a lie--you shouldn't be ashamed to have your picture taken or be afraid to look in the mirror, right?)  Healthy people are born that way, they're lucky.  My genes are against me.  

For the record, my genes are waaaay against me.  My grandmother has struggled against her weight all her life, and lost--she's much too heavy, although she's got low blood pressure and is still able to get around, thank goodness.  My mother has struggled against her weight all her life, and won--thanks to cooking for herself and staying active.  My paternal grandmother died of her obesity.  My father was in excellent health when he died, but he did old-school calisthenics every morning and enjoyed camping, skiing, waterskiing, and gardening.  His father is terribly overweight and a couch potato, literally waiting to die, alone.  My sister was in great shape most of her life, but then her hips began to crumble apart and she was unable to exercise.  The weight packed on.  Now, overweight and with high blood pressure, she's healing from a hip reconstruction surgery (just on one side, the other is still bad but now she can compensate) and she can't wait to get back into shape again.  She's already made huge strides in that direction.

I've struggled against my weight all my life.  When I got pregnant, the pounds ballooned and I felt what it was like to be heavy.  My doctor warned me I was gaining weight way too fast.  I flirted at the verge of gestational diabetes.  At the end of my term I was ginormous--and of course, after the baby was born, I didn't return to my pre-pregnancy weight since I put on way more than breast-feeding and looking after a newborn naturally takes away.  It's not easy for anyone, and it wasn't easy for me.  But I lost the weight again, and after being at a stable weight for many years (give or take five pounds) I'm once again working to get my weight down and my ability to do fun stuff for as long as I want up.  I don't work hard to look like Jillian Michaels.  I work hard to look like a better me.  I have the chance to improve myself every day.  I'm taking that chance today.  I plan on taking that chance again tomorrow.

It's a small sort of accomplishment to walk around the garden every non-rainy day (and some rainy ones too.)  But it's something.  It's a small sort of accomplishment to write for fifteen minutes.  All these small things can be compared to the people who run five miles every morning before work, or write eight hours, or climb Mt. Everest, and of course they come up short.  Unless you're an astronaut, comparing yourself to an astronaut and deciding you'll never reach that high serves no purpose.

There's no need to compare ourselves to anyone else in order to strive.  Strive to do something more than you already do, something important to you (as opposed to what someone has told you ought to be important--just because I'm focused on my weight right now, that doesn't mean I'm pointing at you and your weight!)  Over time, these small accomplishments build into ones we can be proud of.  One day, no, one minute at a time.

Captain Obvious

Yesterday I went to workout.  After some time on my favorite elliptical torture device, I went to stretch and I discovered something.  My low, low back was tender.  WTF?  I toyed with it, figuring it was just tight.  It didn't get worse with exercise, and I had no problems during my weight-lifting routine.  My physical trainer (the train part being that thing with the bright headlight that hits you when you're in the tunnel) ran me through an arm routine that made me a bit sore in the shoulders but nothing debilitating (yet.)  Not even a twinge from the back.  But sitting in the car?  OMG!  Sitting anywhere, unless I'm careful to keep a curve (toward the stomach, not hunched--that makes it worse) is painful.  

I went over my activities.  I got that furniture from IKEA, but I used equipment to move it and I used good mechanics and it wasn't even hard.  I didn't do anything weird at the test.  I took the garbage to the curb.  I vacuumed--hmm, I have a track record for doing bad things to myself while vacuuming.  But that doesn't seem right.  So I checked my IUD to make sure it hadn't started to migrate.  No, all good there.  My friend M suggested it might be back cramps.  Well, it's early for cramps, way early, and I don't get them like I used to.  Still, I took ibuprofen.  Didn't touch the pain.

So I'm telling my DH all this over the phone, and then tangentially mentioned that O and I moved the futon down to the porch the day before yesterday.  And it happened.  I had my Captain Obvious moment.  Or, to quote MST3K for "Cave Dwellers" (a classic!) "This arrow may have something to do with her pain."

Moving that futon was a bear.  It was awkward and dangerous and at one point I slipped and had to catch myself before me and the futon as one big nasty package were delivered on O downstairs from me.  Could I have tweaked my back?  Heck yeah!  I'm surprised one or both of us didn't end up in the hospital when I slipped.  (Note to self, scrub algae off of deck when feeling better.)  

I feel dumb, and yet, vindicated.  I figured it out, and I didn't hurt myself doing something innocuous like drying myself off with a towel.  (Been there, done that.  *sigh*)  I hurt myself valiantly.

I just didn't realize it at the time.  D'oh!

Opportunity

I've been bumming around the garden and keyboard trying to work out a time/rhythm for working out.  Almost everyone has this struggle.  What's worse for me is that I used to run on a regular basis, and at one point in my life I was working out 5 days a week between martial arts, yoga, weight lifting and other pursuits.  (Boy, that was a long time ago now.)  I know I can do it.  What's more, I know I enjoyed it.  What's keeping my butt in the chair?

The ten thousand little excuses.  I should be writing.  I should do housework.  I don't want to drive over to the 24 Hour Fitness without multitasking because of the gas.  Oh look, I'm in the area but I forgot to bring workout clothes (or a towel, or the right shoes.)  I'll do it later tonight.  I'm tired I'll do it in the morning.  Okay, I'm here on the floor watching a DVD but all I really want to do is stretching and a few situps and oh look, there's that sudoku I was working on.

It's insane.  I want off the roller coaster and back into a routine.  It won't take me long to get there and stay there, but I know me.  I do best with outside pressure.  Whether it's working out steadily with a friend (if I don't go my friend won't go and I can't be part of the problem--must be part of the solution!) or taking classes for money or the gym membership (which is languishing but apparently not enough to make me get out there more than once a month) or whatever I do better with external structure.  I think I've found something, and I'd like folks to spread the word because this could be a lot of fun.  And work.  And fun.  And work.  If Steve is serious about 101 volunteers to beta this then even if you read this post in a couple of days chances are pretty good that you'll make it in.  

If you're on serious meds or have health problems do consult your doctor.  Most of the program should help except the intermittent fasting in combination with certain medications or health problems.  I think folks should still be able to do IF in most cases even if they're on heavy medications but personally I would modify it in some way so that you're getting something in your stomach, even if it's just all veggies for the 'fasting' day, so that your blood sugar or meds in an empty stomach don't damage you or cause you excessive pain.  

One thing I really love about IF is that when I know I'm not going to be eating all day I make with the busy work like crazy.  I write more, I garden more, I clean more house, I get out of the house to do stuff, etc.  I also drink lots more water.  I let myself get dehydrated yesterday so the extra water today will be grand.  Yet another thing I really love about IF is that when I'm disciplined about my food, that bleeds over into discipline in other areas.  And when I do eat, I crave the good stuff.  Fresh or lightly cooked veggies.  Home-cooked meat.  Salads.  Cheeses.  The pre-processed, pre-seasoned, deep fried or empty calorie junk just doesn't do it for me when I'm on IF.

Anyway, I'd be very happy if folks joined me or spread the word.  I'm really looking forward to this and I can't wait to start.  Literally can't wait.  I decided to fast today.  Interestingly enough, I decided to fast today before I read the post.  Coincidence?  Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.  I'm comfortable with synchronicity in the universe.