#100daysofsweating

[100daysofsweating]

Day 9

Today, I finally upped the distance. I took about 20 seconds longer on each kilometer, but I willed myself to get till 3 km. 

I felt annoyed about my inability to go further, when just a couple months ago I was comfortably running about 8 km on my long distance days. I assume the weather has much to do with it, but I’m also hesitant to push too much as I’ve never run every day before.

I was meticulous about following my 20 week couch to marathon training plan, and I tried to draw up a post-marathon plan along the same lines. I failed to stick to that pretty miserably. Deadlines seem to suit me, as having a goal time and a set race date is an actual incentive to work towards. So far, challenges seem to work too. I might use this blog again for accountability, and post a run plan soon so I’m not just running on a whim every morning. Anyone seen any good Delhi races I can sign up for in a month or so?

Quick side note of annoyance - why are ALL the runs in Dwarka?! I acknowledge that I live outside the city, but I can get to most parts of south and central Delhi within 45-50 minutes in the morning non-traffic hours. Dwarka, on the other hand, is the absolute opposite end of NCR (I do live as far east as you can go, but right now we’re cursing at Dwarka). I could get to Venice from Bologna in that kind of time.

Ugh, those were the days.

Quick sadness throwback to the view from my BATHROOM in Bologna, la citta bella. 

I was (am?) too dumb to play with camera settings and filters, so this image is true to life.

A dear clever friend came to visit me during my 9 month stay in the city. We were talking in the balcony of my gorgeous 11th floor apartment, and I mused that I wouldn’t find an apartment this nice during the second year of my M.A. in Washington DC.

She turned to me and simply stated: Nimisha, you will never find an apartment this nice. Ever again.

Like I said, clever, clever girl.

Excuse me while I feel sorry for myself. A domani!

Sigh.

[100daysofsweating]

Day 5

Hey hey, it is share a lot of personal information day!

I went from this.. [Sarah’s Scribbles]

A friend commented on my Facebook post about this blog suggesting that I share progress reports on Instagram (whoa social media-full sentence) to keep myself upbeat about this project. My initial reaction was that there wouldn’t really be much progress to report, but I’ve changed my mind since. It is to explain these divergent trains of thought that the gory details shall be revealed. After all, I did promise stats and health blog pretensions.

I don’t really think I can say the I’ve-always-struggled-with-my-weight line with any seriousness, because I wasn’t actually putting in any effort. To cut a frightfully dull long story short (you’re welcome to demand a long version if you do view this as a health blog), I’ve lost 12 kgs over the last ten months, about 9ish percent body fat, and maintained/mildly improved my muscle mass.

To this (i.e. the annoying girl on the right). [Sarah’s Scribbles]

I recently saw a YouTube video (yep, I went that far over to the dark side) where a lady with a similar weight loss number was considering my current status as her “before.” Now I’ve learnt all about body image and loving yourself and frankly, I’m pleased as punch with myself, but she did describe herself as a former “tub” (or was it “chub?”) in a picture that looks exactly like me now (erm, fitter, actually).

The most positive interpretation I have of this woman’s journey is that despite coming quite a way, better health remains a possible goal. And this is where the information gets real and therefore more personal, and this blog potentially gets redefined. 

I am 63 kgs now, at 34 percent body fat (my body comp report says it’s good for women to be at 28 PBF, at most), and only 3 kgs away from my original weight loss goal (which is why I initially said there wasn’t much left to do). However, I’ve since switched to looking at the PBF number over the one on the scale (now you know how the “Punch the sun!” girl’s blog would look like).

I’m boring myself at this point, but in sum - I’m going to try to drop this 6 percent of fat within these 100 (95?) days. To be fair, my PBF may have been more or less at the beginning of these 100 days, but it couldn’t have been significant. So, five days in, I am adding more purpose to this project; a dull purpose for those not inclined towards fitness nitpicking, but one that may keep me interested nonetheless. Cheerio!

Oh today’s run was in the evening, muggy muggy terrible still weather, 2 km and nothing else even though I was supposed to strength train. But with my new purpose, things shall be changing!

Right?

[100daysofsweating]

Day 16

Today’s “long” run became an easy run just because I didn’t feel like making the effort to go faster. I was this close to just staying in bed, so I rewarded myself by jogging instead of running.

Knocking off those extra 10-20 seconds/km, by the way, is quite an effort for me. I do envy those friends who clock in 4.5 minutes/km even over long distances (imagine how quickly they wrap up a 10K! A half marathon!), but I’m pretty pleased with myself on the days I get a sub-7 minute kilometer in.

Let me explain this self-congratulatory attitude about a pretty underwhelming pace. I ran my first 5K last February, and before that, I probably ran in 2007. And by “ran,” I mean jogged. And by jogged, I mean that when the PT instructor would tell us to take three rounds of the 200m “Big Field” (which sounds hilarious now), I would jog so slow at the end of the pack that the quick cats at the head of it would catch up with me during their second round. Which worked out perfectly for me – I would only take two rounds.

You see, though I shed the pounds in high school by losing interest in food, I was still a fat kid at heart. When I first arrived at boarding school as a 9 year old, I was amazed at the playground scars, scrapes and injuries most of my friends sported – I had never stepped out to play. Instead, I read (and that is how I got my glasses at age 8, not by staring into an iPhone *old lady voice*).

My father made it a point to pick up books for me whenever he went into the city (we lived in a small town, where I’m travelling to while writing this), and I devoured them. And when he came back home from the clinic, we did at-home science experiments together (did anyone try that silver egg gig?).

Basically, I wasn’t a physically active child, and it showed. During games time at boarding school, I played karate and chess, which sounds very ninja now (don’t you interject) but were considered very non-sporty in school. And I never ran, not even a 100m, and when I did I was pretty convinced I was about to die.

Which brings us to last year, when my first attempt at running yielded a 10 minute pace for a 3 km run (“you could’ve walked faster,” my lovely brother scoffed). For my 20 week half marathon prep, I used the Jeff Galloway walk-run method, beginning with walking a minute for every minute I ran. By the time I ran my half marathon, I had built up to walking a minute for every seven minutes of running. I ran with the simple aim of finishing before the 3 hour cut-off, and at a pretty even 8 minute/km, I did.

I recount this journey in the off chance that it reaches a fellow non-runner runner. Running ended up being the only exercise I could stick to, because I had a clear goal to work towards which wasn’t just a number on the scale. I felt pretty good about every minor gain in stamina, and I got to feeling pretty good about running overall.

Now, I’m aiming to build to a sub-70 minute 10K, which is over seven minutes faster than my personal best from last year. It’s not much, but I’m really looking forward to getting there. You’ll hear about it when I do.

[100daysofsweating]

Day 15

So my blog has had its first great impact. My brother, who at times acts 50 and at others 3, tattled to my mother about the minor episode of yesterday. It immediately led to a hue and cry about anti-tetanus shots, and every time my mother was distracted by something else, he'd remind her. After much sulking on my part, I was able to defer it. Though this evening he got me Optimum Nutrition (the one I ordered from Amazon looked really fake so I demanded a refund - and got it!), so he's pretty much forgiven.

This morning’s splits, including a sleepy first km.

And now I'm going to talk about your favourite topic - the weather. I think I'm getting used to the heat, but I'm really afraid about it getting any worse (which is a good possibility) in the morning, because it's pretty awful already. I ran 3 km today, and I am curious to see how much longer I can run at these temperatures. I'll be upping the distance a smudge tomorrow (I'm trying to keep the longest run on Sunday, and build on that the next week), so let's see how that goes.

Oh and I went out today! Pretty much the first time since I started this, so some carbing up (for no good reason) happened. All the more reason to attempt running longer tomorrow! Though I have to say I'm pretty stoked that I did get a HIIT workout in after getting home, and one of the harder ones I have at that. So two strength and two HIIT sessions this week and hopefully another strength session tomorrow, which makes this a pretty good streak. I'm kind of exhausted today so I’ll be signing off here, but a little teaser for tomorrow - the day involves out-of-the-city travel. Stay tuned for a change of scenery!

[100daysofsweating]

Day 14

“I saw your head bobbing along one moment, the next you were gone.“

Today’s run was interesting. It was a hot evening run, despite the weather telling visual lies about wind and rain-suggesting greyness. I took off planning to run 2 km. Al lost his mind when I ran by his house, standing up on the balcony and barking loudly. It was so cute!

Grinning at the scene, I decided to take another round around the park in front of his house. A friend was out on a walk too, and as she crossed Al’s house, he started barking again. I pulled out my phone to make a quick video to introduce you good folks to my friend Al. I landed flat on my side.

My friend saw my dramatic fall and came running, by which time I had promptly jumped up, snatched up my phone and started running again, somewhat hobbling. Thanks to my ample thigh fat and sideways-falling klutz-iness, the only thing bruised was my ego (don’t you love that phrase? I love that phrase, and I’m quite pleased to use it today despite the embarrassing context). I remembered stupidly late that I could pause my run, and I did to inspect my injuries. Mostly dust and a minor scrape on my little finger (somehow), but I had my excuse to not go the planned 3 km.

This run time includes a second of public lying down/Video-taking comes before the fall.

I returned from my run in the sun for strength training. This is where I’d like to tell you another totally-useless-but-significant-for-my-fitness-journey fun fact about me - I have no upper body strength. I mean, literally none. Ask my friend who travelled with me on a Shatabdi recently (I will absolutely divulge her phone number and photos on request), and watched me wobble while lifting a not-even-respectably-full bag up to the overhead rails. She was not impressed (though in my defense, not much impresses her).

I lift ridiculously light weights, and I haven’t really pushed myself very hard and fast on that front so far. I can squat for half a day (well more like 45 seconds but you get me) but you have to see how modified my modified push ups are to really believe it. Have you seen that compound exercise, where you do a push up then lift a weight up behind your back balancing your whole body on one hand? Well, my move is less warrior princess and more injured mule.

It seems this whole PBF reduction business will require some serious improvement in the strength training regard, and I dream of the day I can do a real pull up. Or at least gain (and I seriously mean gain) the ability to hang off a ledge for 45 seconds while screaming myself hoarse to give myself a chance to be rescued. If the need arises, you know.

I’ve been badgering my brother to get me heavier weights (this is not just to annoy him, its because he’s super knowledgeable about all things sports science - if you don’t know about Sporting Ethos in Delhi yet, you need to find other real estate than the rock above you), so I’m hoping for some improvements on that front too in these 100 days. I’ll keep you multitudes posted, don’t you worry.

86 days to go!

[100daysofsweating]

Day 13

A sip of terrible coffee again and I was set for the morning run. I covered 3 km in semi-pleasant weather at a pretty decent speed (though I suspect Nike Run foul play again). 

Today’s splits.

There is a house I always run by in the beginning of my run, and there is always a yappy puppy in front of it. With him, there are sometimes adults or a group of children, but there is one little boy who is always there.

This little boy, ready in his school uniform at 5:45 in the morning, is always kneeling by the puppy, almost rubbing him down in his petting enthusiasm. I just catch a glance when I run by, but it always makes me feel glad.

I know this puppy. When he was really little (he’s a middle-aged pup now, as a friend would describe him), he would see me running by, assume I wanted to play, and come waddling and yapping after me, nipping at my ankles. The little boy, still around, would come running after his errant pup. So me (thankfully I was fast enough to outrun a pup, though I didn’t really want to), then the pup, then the boy would have a nice jog-in-a-line every other day. The boy got so unhappy about his pup’s seeming fascination with me (or maybe he was trying to protect me), he would jump up when he saw me approaching and hold his pup down.

I’ve been that boy too. I always had dogs growing up. Well, as much as a kid who spends 8 months away in a residential school can have a dog, but those pups loved me and I loved them. I remember hating this one uncle who would make a massive show of affection towards one of my dogs, and he would reciprocate. I gave Tuffy (yep, I went there with that name) a bit of a cold shoulder after those episodes, but he’d paw a bit and win me back.

I have a whole album of this boy up on Facebook, right here.

Everyone loved Tuffy (a German Spitz) for all his haughty and sensible mannerisms. Chuck (pictured above), on the hand, was a wild one, an annoyance for most. We particularly struggled with him because his, um, colleague was so measured. But boy was Chuck a CUTE one, with those liquid eyes that make you want to forgive everything. He once came tearing through the house for no good reason and hit my mother headlong in the shin, creating a big purple bruise with his thick skull. And she forgave him too. That’s how good he was.

I can go on and on with tales of these two, but I’ll cut off for now here. I miss those buggers, and I wish we could have a dog again. Instead, I follow every puppy Instagram page there is, and go about liking every other image. I don’t think I have ever felt affection as pure and complete as when I’m in the vicinity of a pup. It’s one of my grand aspirations in life, to adopt a pupper and give him enthusiastic squeezes, just like the little boy I see on my runs.

This post warrants another photo of Bucks.

I came back to whey and bed. Strength training has been postponed till tomorrow. More tomorrow!

[100daysofsweating]

Day 12

Sarah’s Scribbles updates are magically timely.

I stepped out this morning to a breeze and 28 degree weather, which for this time of the year is kind of spectacular. It was far from the pleasant temperatures of the winter, but it was a welcome change nonetheless.

Sipping on some (terrible tasting) instant coffee stirred into hot water somehow helped me feel more awake, which also perked up the run a bit. If the 5 am weather doesn’t get much worse, this might be quite a viable action plan.

I just dash off in the end to make the average look better. I guess that’s a pretty common runner ploy right?

I’ve been avoiding HIIT since weeks because I don’t feel like I have enough energy to do anything high intensity after a run (strength training, on the other hand, feels sufficiently passive). Today again, I went back to bed for an hour after the run. But I found a win-win situation - I went to the basement for HIIT in the evening. It’s not a great solution for busy days, but I can take advantage of working from home at least a couple times a week and keep up with other exercise. And bathing twice in this heat never hurt anyone.

I’m also hoping that all this exercise/discipline helps with a mounting sense of anxiety (see art above), that I don’t particularly want to delve into on this forum (yet). Maybe tagging on some more 100 day resolutions (pitching, applying, reading more if possible) would help.

Stray Observations:

1. I should probably put off sleep for a few extra minutes to actually make notes about these observations. Writing 15 hours later proves to be a perfect memory wipe.

[100daysofsweating]

Day 11

I think I might have to change the name of this blog too "It's Too Damn Hot to Run (Yet I'm Running Like an Idiot)." That seems likely to be the theme of most of the posts anyway.

As this project doesn't exactly allow rest days, I thought running in the morning one day and in the evening the next is the closest I can get to a 24 hour rest day. Also, evening runs let me sleep continuously, which is kind of a boon these days.

Enter the evening run, and it pretty much destroys all your happiness. I think the temperature for today's lovely run was 37 degrees.

That's why I look like this after an easy 2 km recovery run. I don't really think evening runs are going to stay an option, so I'll really have to stick to the mornings AND wake up even earlier. If I thought a disturbed sleep was exhausting, running in the evening temperatures is even worse. Well, in the interest of counting my blessings/patting myself on the back, I'm close to completing two weeks without a missed run. If I can get five 3 km runs in this week, that'll really be something. Stray observations: 1. It seems people photos (and more hashtags) are a lot more popular than stats and sceneries. My mother always told me. 2. I want a puppy.

[100daysofsweating]

Day 8

This day has been so long, I can hardly recount the run.

Today’s new Sarah’s Scribbles was right on point.

That should mean that I have many tales to regale you with, but I am too exhausted to do that. The short of it then - after four hours of sleep, I broke the front door (to the delinquents reading this blog, it’s fixed) in my eagerness to go out (and come back from) for my 13 minute run. I had two birthday meals which I assume clocked in at about 12 times the calories I burnt (I assume because I was too scared to log today), and I got into trouble on other counts.

The event worth making a note of to this community (of six people) is that I went in for another body composition analysis today, and the results were not good. The percentage body fat, my main nemesis, has climbed, and the muscle mass has dipped.

On the bright side, the BMI is a little further within normal. Small joys?

I’m fairly certain that this can’t be because of the runs because you know how ridiculously short they are (for the novices reading this, long distance running is a bane to building muscle). I believe it’s a combination of unwitting exercise-related slacking off which I am trying to correct through this project, and an erroneous height measure that might have made last month’s report a bit too good to be true.

Now that I have 92 days to get rid of 7 percent body fat (yeesh), I guess all there is to do is double down with the exercise and lay off the let’s-not-count-today days. To a disciplined month of May, then!

[100daysofsweating]

Day 7

Though it marked a perfect score of 7 runs in 7 days, today’s evening run was just 2 km again. While I was glad to have kept up with the project, my mind was somewhere else. My mind was on my legs.

I usually run in tights, but yesterday I ran in shorts. Not the kind of tiny little running shorts you find at Nike and Decathlon, but loose above-knee shorts nonetheless.

I had just come up from strength training yesterday, so I was warmed up and had my shoes on. I hovered over my tights for a couple minutes, thinking about changing even though I would have to take my shoes off and put them on again for a matter of 13 minutes. The Supreme Court of India today made me think about those two minutes I spent making a decision yesterday.

Home page news.

I was five months into a postgraduate degree in another country when news of the Delhi gang rape of 2012 became an international headline. Concerned friends asked me how I felt about heading back to Delhi in a couple weeks. The more lurid details of the rape came over the wires, the lesser I had to say.

Over four years later, the collective blood lust of a million-people nation has been satisfied; the Supreme Court of India upheld death sentences for four of the six accused. The decision was applauded, photos of the family splashed across the news. Justice had been done.

But I come back to my tights/shorts conundrum and wonder, has it? This argument may be getting old, but why is “Nirbhaya” India’s daughter when we are fighting for justice but not when we are calling for reform? This one horrific gang rape was, unfortunately, only a minor manifestation of the culture of rape we allow, and will continue to allow even after these death sentences. 

This is not a rarest of rare case. These rapists are a product of every time we tell our daughters they should let their brothers eat first, every time we tell our sons that they should get every single thing they desire, every time we encourage girls to learn to cook and clean while the boys watch TV. Capital punishment doesn’t work, but that is a whole other argument. But these hangings change nothing. 

What works is reacting when a woman gets sexually harassed on the streets. Telling little girls, as well as little boys, that they are unique, special individuals that deserve equal respect than all the other boys and girls.That respecting another individual’s choices makes you a better person, not a weaker one. That honour and pride are meaningless in the face of choice and freedom. 

I’ve thought, felt, and said these words countless times, but I can’t help repeating myself. It would be worth it if anyone listens, and passes it on. If for nothing else, then in the memory of a girl who died a painful, meaningless death, have this argument.

[100daysofsweating]

Day 6

100 Days of Sweating is now on Instagram!

To make this commitment even more binding (and accessible) than it already is, I’ve set up Facebook and Instagram  pages for this project. As Tumblr accounts are not as common, I’ve decided to haunt you through other avenues, and make said haunting entirely voluntary.

Tired of feeling tired every day of the week, I pledged to turn in early last night. I managed to switch off the lights by 11:30, and I believe I was out before midnight.

The alarm, as usual, went off at 5:30 am. I promptly got up, turned it off, and went back to sleep.

It was wonderful. It may sound like too dramatic a reaction, but sleeping till 8 felt like a spa day. 

Correction, my one spa experience was kind of traumatic. Now to be fair, there is information to disclose - growing up I was somewhat infamously averse to contact, especially with strangers/those who weren’t too close (I treat(ed) those two categories the same). Though I’ve since grown into, um, more of a lover than a fighter, my one pedicure last year left me fairly squeamish.

Yet, after training for 20 weeks and running a marathon, I decided that my sore back warranted the kind of maturity that allowed a massage. During a new year vacation in Pondicherry, a friend and I decided to sign up for an Ayurvedic Kerala spa treatment.

How has no one I know told me about what these entail? In my mind, massages are what Julia Louis Dreyfus (bless her heart) gave in Enough Said. And THOSE are the kind I had prepared myself for.

Now before you judge me for being prudish, my massage lady actually stood there and told me to strip. In front of her. To the buff. And by “she just stood there” I mean she really just stood there, entirely disinclined to glance elsewhere or even make small talk to break the stripping ice.

What ensued doesn’t need to be described, apart from the fact that the humiliating beginning made complete sense by the (extremely oily) end. AND, the soreness didn’t go away.

So in conclusion, sleeping till 8 didn’t feel like a spa day, and follow this blog on Instagram and/or Facebook.

[Oh and today’s evening post-strength training run was only 2 km again, but the heat seems to make me run quicker so the run time was decent. I might attempt a longer one tomorrow morning.]

94 days to go!

[100daysofsweating]

Day 4

I’m waiting to see if this blog could serve as a measure of the troughs and crests in running-related enthusiasm. If it is just a matter of tracking my personal moods otherwise, this isn’t really serving a purpose.

I’m not sure if it is a product of sleep deprivation, but today’s run felt pretty uneventful yet again. The weather was glorious, the warm up short, the music dull. I should note that I look ridiculous running, because my fancy Nike sweat-wicking tights keep slipping off my belly. It’s like the low hanging salwars in school all over again, only not so “cool” anymore.

I am not one to reminisce about growing up in a boarding school, but this particular trend is worth publicly ridiculing. Our uniform was the salwar kameez, and the shorter the kameez and the longer the salwar, the better. I remember the cuffs of some (of the coolest) salwars, hanging literally by a thread, were completely frayed much to the chagrin of the adults. And that “baggy” style slipped through to our casuals as well.

Case in point, a la 2007.

I have since, thankfully, switched to long kurtas and cropped pants. I thought our love of tattered clothing was a symptom of the time, but I was firmly put in my place last year when I visited a friend [pictured above, in her pre-sexy days] who lives on campus. On hearing me remark about how shabby we looked in our school uniforms, a current student immediately quipped “but long kurtas look so old yaar.” 

Thank you for the reminder, child.

Today’s run lasted 3 km, and though I could have, I didn’t run longer. We’ll see in the next 96 days.

[100daysofsweating]

Day 3

Not much to report from the run today, it was pretty uneventful both mentally and physically. 

I had to be somewhere so I wrapped it up at 2 km again - as it is a 100 days, I don’t feel too bad about not amping up the energy/distance quickly enough. Although I’m not a new runner, I’ve never really run more than thrice a week, even when I was training for my half marathon, so I’m a tad concerned about injuries. Another thing to track on this blog.

It looks like I’ll be relying a lot on Andersen’s wisdom over these 100 days. [via Sarah’s Scribbles]

The lack of sleep is beginning to annoy me; even when I caught up with it over the weekend with long post-workout snoozes, I didn’t feel very rested. And today I was groggy through the day. Well, more coffee is always a welcome solution. 

Posting late also means that I’ve forgotten whatever little I thought about discussing and that I have very little patience, so I’ll be wrapping this lullaby up. The next few days shall be hectic, so expect similar scintillating commentary for a bit. 

Congratulations, new subscriber. 

[100daysofsweating]

Day 2

I didn’t feel like stopping to take photos today, so here is one from yesterday of a car wondering why a woman in running clothes is taking drab pictures in the middle of the road. Yep, cars are sentient here.

I thought this might take some time, but it was a smudge easier to get up on Day 2. I was able to will myself to warm up a minute longer, and leave the house a full seven minutes sooner than yesterday.

There was a glorious wind. I noticed that Al (the Alsatian) looked much thinner than I remembered him, which made his lack of barking somewhat worrisome. Even though I was always expecting it, it would scare my already racing heart into more speed momentarily, but I missed the little bugger’s energy.

The man walking him (Al Walker?) also looked a bit more glum. He was the kind one in charge of stepping out in front of Al and scolding him every time Al would lose his mind yapping, so I had taken to giving him a little nod of gratitude accompanied by a quick namaste. He would always smile back and nod.

One day a few months ago, I was walking with my mother around the park in front of Al’s house, and I saw the man cleaning the car. I greeted him again, and my mom immediately asked how I knew him. That evening, she mentioned the greeting to my brother. He didn’t react.

Nothing dramatic happened, and for all I know it was all in innocence. It did make me think about how little we trust each other. I’m far from perfect - I ignored Al Walker the first month of my running, as I continue to ignore many others every day. I tell myself it is how we are conditioned to ignore all those who stare, but maybe they have better things to do. Maybe a nod would initiate some kind of solidarity, and a willingness to help if something went wrong.

And here I am, calculating some sort of advantage out of basic politeness too.

Fewer walkers were out today. One man was wheeling along his bicycle, his wife walking by him. He was taking his time, as I passed the couple twice looping along a long road. A young boy sat perched on the seat, enjoying his slow ride. I like to imagine that it was the kind of memory the kid would look back on fondly when he grew up.

I managed to run an extra kilometer, though I was a bit slower. I remembered to bring my laptop downstairs, unlike yesterday, so I didn’t have to go up to fetch it for my workout in the basement. I was too lazy to actually do the workout today though.

98 days to go.