Con artist

Have we all been conned?

This idea of life that we've been conditioned to accept...is this all there is?

We strive to snare a bigger job, to make a bigger income, to buy bigger stuff, that we need a bigger house to contain, with a bigger mortgage, that we need to have a bigger job to pay for, and so the circle goes.

What if we just didn't?

When I list the things that make me happy; wind in my hair, salt on my skin, sun in the air, to love and feel love, to feel free... how does the way I live now support these?  The question is rhetorical by the way!

Nowhere on my list is a home theatre room, or even a TV, his and hers vanities, a powder room, business cards, a fancy title, 600 thread count sheets, 2XU compression pants.

Nowhere on my list have I included sitting at a desk with no natural light for 9 hours a day, shuffling meaningless papers, cleansing an email inbox, commuting for 3 hours each day and listening to people re-cycle business jargon.

I want to create art.  

Not gallery hanging, brush created stuff.  

The kind of art that changes things.  

Changes people.  

A health sculptor.

There.  That's what I will be when I grow up.

In the zone

Do you ever have one of those days when your inbox makes you do a double take?

Not your work inbox - yucckkkkkk.  The one where all of those opt-in emails you have to sign up for to get some ebook or free offer go to.  I'm a sucker for those things.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Exhibit a)

The Divine Writer;

Opt in:  5 fail-safe tips for starting your book.

Status:  book not started.

I rarely read these emails.  In fact, this may be the first one I've clicked through for more.  And it's not as thought the title grabbed me, either.  "My favourite books: The Big Leap"

It was actually about self-sabotage and intentionally living under your potential.  The article then went on to talk about "your zone of genius", and this is where things got REALLY interesting (for me!).

So, they described four zones;

Zone of incompetence - things you know you're crap at and should out-source.

Zone of competence - stuff you CAN do, don't really like to do, and others can do just as well.

Zone of excellence - you're good here.  Comfortable.  Maybe even accomplished.  But you're not lit up or excited, even if you do make a living from operating in this zone.

And then came the really good stuff...

Zone of genius - the thing you were born to do.  Your divine calling. Things that draw on your special gifts and talents.

The article goes on to say that unfortunately, most of us play it safe and stay in our zone of excellence, or even worse, our zone of competence. The flow on effects are that around the time we hit 40, or midlife, or whatever you want to call it, we've been so used to ignoring our genius that beats louder and louder as the years progress, that not listening manifests in any number of nasties.  Depression, illness, relationship conflict.  Alarms going off, but still we don't listen.

THIS IS HOW I FEEL!!!!!

There's something bigger in me than meetings and taking minutes and conforming to the norm of the corporate world.  I just don't fit there.  And I'm getting restless.  I've been restless for years.  It's not going away, even when I press mute.  

It's getting louder, louder, louder!

Run-plugged

It's no secret that I love my gadgets.

This week at parkrun I did the unthinkable - I ran un-plugged.  

Now, this didn't happen by design.  I had signed up to volunteer today.  Not that I really wanted to.  The only way last week's event would start was if three people signed up to help out.  After an awkward delay only netted two suckers, I put my hand up so we could get on with things.  This morning, Mr Lean was still suffering from his back/leg/foot soreness and decided to come along to parkrun anyway.  And with no other volunteer positions available today, circumstance gave me the opportunity to run.

Not that I was prepared for it.  With no earphones or armband, the phone (and therefore Nike+) was left behind.

So I ran.

And I liked it.

In fact, for 26 minutes I used all of my senses.

I felt the path beneath me.  Where my feet made contact.  And the breeze on my arms.  Changed the position of my hands to see what felt better.

I heard things for the first time.  The louder footfall over the first bridge.  The constant bump of steps on the long straight.  The crunch of gravel as I rounded the corner next to the rotunda.  And my breathing.  I heard how easy mine was, so I played with it.  Three out to two in.  Two in and one long one out, making my feet keep time.  I heard the encouragement of the pacers both in front and behind me.

I saw and smelled the first signs of spring.  The clumps of runners bunching next to an orange-clad pacer. Ducks on the water.  I took it all in.

And I tasted my own sweat as I crossed the finish line.

Every part of me ran today.  Mind, body, heart, soul.

I picked up a friend's Son with 500m to go, laughing as I told him not to let an old duck like me beat him, and pushed him through to the flags.

I picked myself up when my thoughts started to drag into negative country, gently bringing them back to the present.

But most of all, I picked up a greater sense of who am I, who I want to be, and what I need to do to get there.

The agent for change is changing

I started to write this post a few days ago, yet struggled to bring it together.  Last night the why was revealed...and now it's taken on a different tone.

*****

Back when I started this 'transformation' (not a fan of that word, but it's better than 'journey'!), I happened upon a local Facebook group. In fact, I didn't even have a FB account then.  I remember the hesitation before I posted the first time.  How it took me weeks of reading through people's comments to learn the ropes and feel my way.  Over time I gained the confidence to contribute, which led to me joining my first group activity - with complete strangers.  I can smile at this now, but back then, it was a fear, and it was real.

It's been a while since I've been active in the group.  I'm still a member.  Sentiment means I can't let it go, even though I rarely pop in to catch up on happenings.

Last night, the founder of the group posted about the group's impending closure.  The admins are burnt out and aren't getting what they need from the group themselves.  That, combined with the number of lurkers in the group have led them to make the decision.

I'm strangely affected by this.

In my health and wellness studies there's a fair focus on the psychology of change and the typical stages you go through.  The first two are pre-contemplation and contemplation.  These resonate VERY strongly with me.  After all, it's not like I suddenly woke up one morning and sorted my shit out.  Sure, I had a health scare, but in reality, when I analyse it all, the actual process began many MANY years ago, before 12wbt had even been conceived.

Without knowing it I was accumulating knowledge that would eventually point me in the right direction.  I’d read a little about different diets.  In fact, if you open some of the boxes I have in storage, you’ll find dusty, dog-eared titles such as; Eat Right For Your Type, The Liver Cleansing Diet, Fit For life, all with sticky notes and scribbles in the margins. Contemplation and I were best friends.

So these stages.  They may take a few weeks, months, years or decades.  And there are no formulae to correlate length with success. No means of predicting whether a quick transition between denial, thought and action is more effective than a drawn out series of seemingly ineffective attempts.

But there is plenty of data that supports the need to find your tribe.  That success is more likely when supported in a group setting. Should it be a two-way street though?

Do those who have successfully navigated change and live a healthy lifestyle have a kind of responsibility to tell their story?  Not so much for their own sense of importance, but in the hope that others may change their lives too. 

You just never know who is watching, listening, reading, preparing and contemplating change.

Who Runs Melbourne?

Sunday 27 July.

10km

59:13

My first 10km since Australia Day and I was NERVOUS as before hand.  And when I reflect on it now, the nerves completely crushed any pre-event excitement I may have felt.

It was a memorable day.  Melbourne put on one of those winter days that make you fall in love with this city all over again.  18 degrees.  Not a cloud in sight.  Low wind.  Perfect running weather.

So why the nerves?

It's hard to actually nail down your own thoughts and emotions, especially when you're still living them.  But with a few days of reflection, I think it's a total, all-consuming fear of injury.  Which then leads me to think that I still haven't deal fully with the feelings around my knee reco 10 years ago.

Before THAT day I was relatively fit, playing basketball a few times a week and my weight must have been okay-ish according to the size 14 label I wore.  

I can still pull up the exact moment that my ACL ruptured.  It was the first basketball game I'd ever played with my daughter - and as it turned out  - the last.  She had just turned 15 so was 'legal' for a senior team.  I'd waited for this moment for the longest time.  We were pretty seriously into the sport.  I worked in it, coached at elite and domestic level and pretty much everything about my life revolved around one stadium or another.

I remember it being cold on court 3 at Knox, so I'm going to assume it was around this time of year.  It was a social game with my friends.  I was tired, which was pretty much the default for me.  And my head was not in the most positive of places on the domestic front.  I was seriously considering leaving my husband.  If not in the actual planning stage, it was certainly front of mind.  I didn't start the game.  I didn't warm up, but then, no one did.  It was a social game after all.

I subbed in deep into the first half.  Meg was on the bench at this point.  A cross-court pass from the opposition was too good an opportunity not to show off in front of my girl.  I snatched it and took off down the centre of the court at top speed (for me at the time).  And I can remember the thought process - do I lay this up on my right or left side.  Choosing the show off route I decided left.  I had an open court.  No one chased me down because it was a social game.  I'd done this literally hundreds of times.  I'd taught kids as young as four to do a left handed lay-up.  And as my left foot hit the court, my knee, taking the weight of my size 14 frame, buckled underneath me.  I heard a bang, like I'd been shot.  I crashed to the ground.  The pain was excruciating.

At first I had no idea of what I had done.  I lay on the court trying to process it.  Should I get up?  Have I torn a hamstring?  Raelene, get up.  But I couldn't.  My body went into shock.

I remember Meg taking immediate action - as you don when you're 15.  She tried to call her Dad, but he was playing at another stadium at the time.  So the game played out and I waited.  For what I didn't know, but I remember laying on my back on the court-side bench, freezing cold in a bit of a panic.

We went to emergency that night.  They did an MRI, which unsurprisingly revealed a rupture of the ACL, Grade 2 lateral tear and Grade 3 medial tear.  I've always said there's no point doing something unless you do it well!

Due to internal bleeding and bone bruising, surgery was delayed by around 8 weeks.  I couldn't weight bear, but as those who know me will understand, I still went to work on crutches.

Rehab sucked.  My head wasn't in the game.  I felt sorry for myself.  At 36, I was advised to not play again. Really?  Never?  My graft was from the patella.  They don't do it this way anymore, preferring a hamstring graft.  Patella means long-term stability rather than flexibility, and at my 'age' that was a better long-term choice.  Stability also means reduced range of movement, which still troubles me today.  Even after following the 12 month rehab plan; hydrotherapy, walking, strength work to the letter.  I can't even stretch my left quad properly.  And my version of childs pose at pilates is just plain embarrassing.

Still - 10 years later I'm stuck in the what-if's.  

If my mind was on what I was doing - if I was fully present at that game - would this have happened?

Truly I am a fatalist.  Everything does happen for a reason.  But this one gets me.  I can't see a single thing that is better in my life as a result of doing my knee.  I'm still pissed about it.  Pissed at me about it.  Of course, I low that what has gone before me has shaped the me that I now am.  But can't I just have a normal knee?

So this brings me full circle to my fear of injury.

Much of this year has been spent with at least a niggle in either my knee or back or both.  Is running agitating or assisting?  Does each run shorten my bodies functionality?

Each and every time I run, be it 1km or 10km, I feel the fear.  Some days I'm able to move it aside as a passing thought.  Some days I carry it on my shoulders.  You can see it on my face.  Feel it in my emotions.

This was one of those days.

 Good thing my feet and heart came for the ride, coz my head sure as hell didn't!  I'm Raelene and I ran Melbourne.

45 - over and blown out

Today;
 is the last day of my 45th year.

Today;
 I gingerly tiptoed onto the scales.

Today;
 the measurement in front of my eyes has confirmed why my energy levels are low, why I'm feeling less confident in my clothes, why the Saturday ritual of park run seems harder than it did a few months ago.

Today;
I weigh 71.4kg


Oh there's reasons.  And excuses.  Mostly excuses.  All excuses.

Job, blah blah
Time, blah blah
Life, blah blah

In 600g more grams, my BMI will take me from the healthy range to OVERWEIGHT.

I knew it was coming.  Last week I joined a gym near work.  Isn't that always the immediate response?  Exercise more.  Push more.  Punish more.

This was never about just being 'thin' for me.  Health was the key motivator. And having it questioned was finally the catalyst. Funnily (or not so funny really), I've been having back problems again.  The warning signs are there that I'm making choices unsupportive of my health.

So for the next week - just one week - I'm going to choose differently:

Monday : portions.
Those 2 squares of 70% cocoa dark chocolate that snuck up to being 4, will go back to 2.
Tuesday : caffeine.
Reduce to 2 coffees per day rather than, oh, 5, sometimes more.  1 instant when I get to work & 1 lovingly husband-made Nespresso after dinner (with my 2 squares!).
Wednesday: snackage.
Farewell afternoon snuck muffin & hello carrot and celery sticks.  If I don't want them then I'm clearly not hungry, am I?
Thursday : sleep.
Be in bed, ready to sleep by no later than 10pm for 8 hours of delicious slumber.
Friday : water.
My fav drink bottle holds 700ml (I just measured). I will drink 3 today, 1 by 11am, 1 by 3pm, 1 by 8pm.
Saturday : run.
Park run is not negotiable - do you hear that pillow?  You won't win!
Sunday : invest.
Coffee x 2 @ $3.50 x 4 days = $28. Add muffins x 3 @ $3.50 = a total 'saved' this week of $38.50 which will be transferred into an RDF (Raelene Development Fund).

Monday to Friday will compound, so that by Saturday morning, all of those unhealthy habits will be on their way to the archives.

Date	portion	caffeine	snackage	sleep	water	run	invest
7/7
8/7
9/7
10/7
11/7
12/7
13/7

I'll track and measure here each day and share the little victories (and challenges) along the way.

Happy anniversary...

...to me!  Today marks one year since my back surgery.  I'm really emotional  about it.

This was me on November 3, 2011;

I was sad.  Really sad. And despite having a "bad back" for a number of years, I took none of the advice given.  I didn't exercise.  Not even walk.  I ate terribly.  And I can remember making excuses for my weight, like; I've got the world's slowest metabolism.  I work long hours and I'm too busy to exercise.  I've always been big.  I even threw the big boned thing out there on occasion.  oh, and my favourite self-justification that I HAVE said out loud to people...I only have to walk past a donut shop and I put on a kilo.  OMG - what bullshit!  If I didn't go IN to the donut shop and buy 3, that might have made a difference.

But, you get the picture... I was fat, and sad, and crippled with back pain to the point that paralysis set in down my left side and I was rushed to Monash and operated on the next morning.

And that's when I said goodbye to sad, pathetic, fat me.  I didn't want that kind of a life.

When I got home from hospital, my gorgeous man bought me an ipad, and I began searching for ways to turn my life around.  I stumbled across Rebecca's blog which is where I first heard about 12wbt.  I remember reading about all the things she was doing, not for even one second thinking that a year later I would be doing them too.  I was inspired.  And in true Raelene fashion, I researched the living daylights out of it.

So this was early November, and the next "round" of 12wbt didn't start until February.  I REALLY wanted to do it, but could only walk short distances, but often.  In fact, the first time I made it to the driveway next door I thought there should have been some type of parade!  But I persevered.   The man bought me Michelle Bridges books and a wii-fit. And each day I walked a little further, cooked a little better, and by the time 12wbt pre-season started in January, I was around 10kg down.

About this time, something completely changed my life.  Facebook.  Until now I'd avoided it for various reasons that aren't relevant here.  On the 12wbt forums, someone had posted about a FB group in the Casey Cardinia area that had started up, so I took the plunge and signed up.  I was REALLY timid at first.  Too shy/scared to go to the group walks they had planned.  In retrospect, I was worried that my recovery wasn't fast enough and that I wouldn't be able to keep up.  That everyone would be fitter than me, and I'd be liability city.

A couple of the ladies reached out to me, and from then on I was hooked.  Olivia, Judy, Nicole, Katrina, Lisa, and a cast of hundreds really.  Amazing ladies.  Generous with their time and their hearts, and I love them all dearly.

And as I plucked up the courage to start attending group sessions, my fitness and recovery came on at a great rate of knots.  So too did my interest in and knowledge of nutrition and turning this fad diet thing into a sustainable lifestyle.

I've marked todays anniversary in two ways and with two of my biggest supporters.  Yesterday afternoon I went for a loong walk with my Mum.  I love spending time with her so very very much.  And today, my gorgeous man came on a 20km walk with me, from our house to Fountain Gate shopping centre and back, for no other reason than we could.  Crazy about the man by the way - still - after all these years!

I could recount all the highs and lows of this past 12 months - mostly highs coz that's the kind of life we live.  But all I need to say is that I'm no longer sad and I'm no longer fat.

I don't know who reads this blog, and frankly it's not about that. But if you do read it and you can relate to how the "before me" felt, please look up www.12wbt.com and don't waste another day being unhappy and without purpose.  It'll change your life in ways you'd never expect xx

Easter in Sydney

What an absolutely magical few days we had visiting Sydney.  We've both been up there for work, but never together, and to have the time to really check the city out as a tourist was brilliant.

There was plenty of good food;

Spectacular views;

Some conquering of fears;

And some very unexpected, but delightfully delightful news that is making me smile, smile, smile;

Brilliant way to spend an Easter :)