Team S.J.G.R. Thursday Team Huddle #7: Interval Improvements

Fist Bump for Team S.J.G.R.! Exercise UP, Forks DOWN, baby!!

Y'all! What's up?!!

First, let me say this:

You guys ROCK for all of this healthy heart stuff you've been doing. ROCK, people. You've been walking. You've been running. You've been putting down the fork and picking up healthy habits. And your hearts are better for it. You know what? Mine is, too.

Peep that hashtag: #TeamS.J.G.R.

And for those who are still thinking about it? You rock, too. Because thinking about making a change is a step. It is. So shout out to you, too.

Okay. So let me make this huddle short and sweet. . . . .

I am obsessed with interval training right now. Specifically as it relates to running. For a while I'd been super determined to "run only" because I thought that would make me more bad ass. Well. What it mostly did was give me a 'flicted ankle and an annoying stress fracture. 

That just made me chuckle at my visit to Sports Medicine. Ha ha ha.

Now.

I am NOT saying that running without walk intervals gives you stress fractures. But I am saying that there's some pretty good data that supports less injuries from those who approach it this way. Especially those who are older. 

Mmmm hmmm.

Getting sidelined back in January was WHACK. I was tortured by an elliptical for 8 weeks which I did not enjoy at all. So once I got the green light after my 'flicted ankle healed, I started looking into ways to never be 'flicted again. 

Enter: Interval running.

So. . . I know that many have already heard of this. It was popularized by this superbad running dude named Jeff Galloway and most refer to it as "The Galloway Method." Essentially, you run for a stretch then walk for like a minute and then repeat. Most of the folks I know that do this approach it with a run-nine, walk-one minute set up. And for the most part, that's what I'd been doing. 

Until Saturday night.

Crystal strikes a pose as one of her multiple personalities. Ha!

Dude. At the 4 miler, my friend Crystal said, "I run intervals, so you can just run ahead if you want." And I was like, "No, I'll roll with you because I like intervals." So check it. Crystal set her Garman watch (another runner-y thingie) to beep whenever it was time to run or walk. And so we followed the beeps.

But HERE is the kicker. The intervals were run TWO minutes, WALK one minute. Yes! Sounds super crazy but can I just tell you how awesome it felt? I ran much, much faster and felt none of those tortured feelings. And I LITERALLY shaved thirty seconds off of my mile-per-minute time. And guess what? I've been doing that since Saturday and literally ran three 10:15 second miles yesterday. All using the 2:1 method. Bananas!

I think I'm going to do this for the Army 10 miler. Yup.

The thing is this: You have to get over the hateration and hairy eyeballs that you'll get. But after that stress fracture, I don't even care. Plus all those haters came in BEHIND me on Saturday. 

Mmmm hmmm.

So yeah. Peep the Galloway Method. There are also a ton of free interval apps for your phone that will tell you when to shift gears based upon what you want to do. Harry was hating on me and saying that I was going to get a tomato thrown at me in D.C. with all the Army cats for doing this. 

To which I said:

Make sure you say that, too, whenever you're worried about looking ridiculous doing some kind of exercise.

Ha ha ha. Yeah, man. 

So that's what's going on with me and my training. I am super thankful to Crystal for turning me on to this kind of interval. I'm hyped, man!

Here's Crystal with Jeff Galloway. She's a BAWSE!!

What's up with y'all?!? Whatchoo doin' these days?

***

Happy Training.

Get ready

Get set

Get heart healthy, baby!

Don't hate.

Grady doctors, Jason S. and Kimberly M.

Can't you see us smizing? Ha ha ha. Tyra, Mister and Miss Jay would totally keep us in the running for America's Next Top (Public Hospital) Model. I'm just saying.

Mmmm hmmm.

What? Don't hate.  (No. I mean, like, seriously--don't.)

***
Happy Wednesday. This post was inspired by this.

Leave it to the professionals.

"If I gave you sanity
For the whole of humanity,
Had all the solutions
to the pain and pollution

No matter where I live,
Despite the things I give,
You’ll always be this way
So go ‘head and….

Hate on me, hater
Now or later
‘Cuz I’m gonna do me
You’ll be mad, baby
(Go ‘head and hate)
Go ‘head and hate on me, hater
I’m not afraid of
What I got I paid for
You can hate on me."

~ Jill Scott's "Hate on Me"

_________________________________________

I was talking to a (beautiful, brilliant) friend on the phone the other day who laughed and said this during our idle conversation:

"Seeing as I'm a fat cow, I don't need to be eating anything."

Wait, huh? A fat cow? Wow. That's kinda harsh.

Alright, so here's what's on my mind today. . . .

Okay, can I please just step up onto my little soapbox for a moment-tito?

Ah hem. Don't mind if I do.

"Don't need no hateration. . . ." ~ Mary J. Blige

Now check it. I can assure you that if you have lived on this earth long enough, there is somebody somewhere who has had a negative word or two to say about you. Yes, YOU. They have either done so maliciously or through the ever-elusive backhanded compliment. Sometimes that person is a total stranger and other times it is one of the people nearest and dearest to you. Regardless of all that-- trust me, you've been "hated" on. Perhaps, like my friend did to herself, they have also gone so far as to criticize your eating habits. . . . referring to you as something even worse than a "fat cow." Maybe, just maybe, they called you a "beluga whale" instead. Or maybe even a "hungry, hungry hippo."

Yowza.

What if weight isn't your issue? What if it's something like. . . . how you talk or how you walk or how you do whatever it is you do? What if you are too short or too tall or speak with an accent or speak with an impediment or have a mole on your forehead or are gay or are effeminate or tomboyish and seem gay but aren't or are very conservative or are very not conservative or . . .or. . .or. . .sigh. See what I'm saying? There's always something to hate on.


I have found that of the worse things that YOU can come up with to hate on yourself, there is always someone somewhere who can do it better.

Which brings me to my soapbox and my mantra on self-deprecation-slash-self-hateration:

Leave the hating to the professionals. They are much better at it.

Someone who is looking to really insult you or cut you to all the way down to the white meat can probably do it much more efficiently than you can. Like, you might look in the mirror and pick yourself apart piece by piece. One tiny shred at a time. How inefficient! See, this is why you need a professional hater to do that for you. 'Cause a professional hater? Chile please. They rip the band aid right off.

Case in point:


You say "fat cow."
They say "gastric bypass called and said they missed you last week."

Ouch.

See? I'm saying. Why should you even bother insulting yourself? You just have know that someone has already made that their full time gig. And most are willing to work overtime at it. So leave it to them.

I know, I know. This sounds so unlike the Pollyanna Grady doctor, right? But honestly? It's really a feel good message. It really is. Because being mean can become habitual. And my point is that there are plenty of miserable people that have made it a habit to do just that--and they don't need your help.

But.

There are scores and scores of us who have targeted ourselves for our most consistent insults. Almost like we have this need to preemptively strike against ourselves before someone else can. And to that I say, Eeeeeeeehhhhnnnnnn! (*buzzer sound*)

So as of today, I declare the rest of this month: "No Hating on Myself Month."

Here's how it will work--quite simple, actually. The rules are that you can't say anything negative about YOURSELF for the next two weeks. In other words, for the rest of August, you make a pledge to leave all hating to the professionals. (Remember--they're much better at it.)

Here is the pledge:

(Place your right hand over your hip and then let your backbone slip)

I, insert your name here, do solemnly pledge to allow no insults directed toward or about myself to leave my lips for the rest of the month. This includes but is not limited to references about the following:

• butt size


• hair length


• baby weight


• belly circumference


• skin surface


• crows' feet


• height


• complexion


• salary


• material possessions


• marital status


• relationship status


• grades


• achievements in comparison to someone else


• achievements of your children


• size of your house


• make of your car


• mistake from your past


• compliments to others with reflexive insults to yourself in same breath

The good news is that you can liberally make reference to the following:

• Craziness of your own family members (but only in presence of other family members)


• Annoying quirks of your significant other (but only in absence of your significant other)


• Any person who stars on any reality television show including but not limited to any Kardashian, Snooki, the people on the Parking Wars show, and any of the housewives Real or Basketball. (Exception to this rule: "Swamp People" and the daddy on "Pawn Stars.")

***(play the anthem below and shake what your mama gave you if you commit)***

Vowed on this day in August 2011. . . . (insert your name here.)

***

If you are prepared to go on this self-hateration diet for the next two weeks and you pledge to leave it to the professionals, make your mark, people!

Oh. . .errr. . .or just comment. Heh.

Okay but on a serious note--JoLai and I did this last summer and it was amazing to have it brought to our attention how often we insult ourselves. We were floored at how much thought it took to not dog ourselves out--because even when it's done in humor, it's still not cool. And please don't get it confused--not hating on yourself doesn't mean that you aren't self-reflective or self-aware. If you cut people off when they talk and you notice that about yourself, by all means work on it. If you drive through the Chick-fil-A window and have that 1500 calorie shake three days a week, rethink that, too.

But calling yourself a "stupid blabbermouth" . . .or rather referring to yourself as a "fat pig?" That's a counterproductive no-no. Ya dig?

Alright, who's down?

You wit' me?

***
Happy Wednesday.

***
Now playing on my mental iPod--the "No Hating on Myself Pledge" anthem. . .
The one and only Jill Scott singing "Hate on me hater."