bearing blog

Garbage yardage?

After Leo turned six weeks old and I got into the pool for my first postnatal swim, I floundered.  It felt so good to be back in the water again after close to four months off.  It felt so awful to have lost so much ground, to know I'd have to work hard to "get back to where I was."  Those first few times I couldn't bear to think about any sort of a workout plan.  I got into the water, I crossed and re-crossed the pool, and when my time was up I climbed out. 

There's a term I have encountered in reading about swim training:  "garbage yardage."   The derision is aimed at, well, aimlessness.  It is pleasant to get in the pool and swim at a comfortable pace for forty minutes or an hour, not trying to go particularly fast, not working hard, just racking up the yards.  Undoubtedly it is better than not swimming at all, good for my heart and for my muscles and for my mentality.  It's not a waste of time. 

But it won't make me faster.

And it's kind of boring, too.

I felt more grounded as soon as I had a goal.  My longish-term goal is now to swim a mile in fifty minutes.  My shortish-term goal, since I'm stuck with shorter workouts for the time being, is to swim a half-mile in twenty-five minutes.  So I'm working on speed, not sprint speed but steady pace.  I have a stopwatch.  I have a plan:  so many intervals, so many seconds per interval, this much of a warmup, this much of a cool-down.  Each time I cross the pool I have some mini-goal in mind, mostly a part of the form:  This lap I will concentrate on controlling the roll of my body.  Next lap I will slice my hands into the water at the right angle every time.  The lap after that, I will be sure to kick forcefully all the way across the pool. 

This is not garbage yardage.  This yardage has a point.

Every physical activity has its form of garbage yardage.  I don't mean that aimless yardage is truly "garbage," as if it doesn't help at all.  It's relaxing, and it's better than sitting on the couch.  Relatively speaking, though, improvement requires a challenge.  How much it takes to challenge you depends on what you're used to.  Strolling around the neighborhood is fun and good for you, but is not a challenge... unless you are so unused to walking that it leaves you breathless.  For me, now, running 30 minutes at four miles an hour would be garbage yardage.  Fine for a day when I feel sore or headachy.   Much better than nothing.  But if my workouts were all like that I wouldn't improve.

The size of the challenge does not matter.  It can be quite tiny.  Just a little bit longer.   Just a little bit faster.  Just a little bit harder.  It can be the tiniest measurable increment:  I'm going to run at five-point-nine instead of five-point-eight.  I'm going to add that teeny little free weight, the one that looks like a CD, on to the stack of weights I lifted last week.  I'm going to finish one more lap.

So if the tiniest self-challenge counts, then even your very first day of deliberate body motion, no matter what it is, is worth something.  Get out and move.  Challenge yourself (1) to begin and (2)  to make a challenge for next time. So there will be a next time.

That is how it starts.

Trial run.

Today I returned to running.  Not for very long:  I started with just five minutes.  But it was a good start.

I signed MJ and Milo into the child care, but Oscar came with me and Leo up to the track.  As we headed up the stairs we passed a quartet of women coming down, toting yoga mats.  One cooed at Leo.  "Oh!  So new!  How old?"

"Thanks!"  I said with a big smile.  "He's six weeks."

"Beautiful!" she said as she went down the stairs.  From around the corner I heard another of the women tell her, "That's her fourth baby -- can you believe it!"  I didn't recognize her -- I must be famous.  (Stairclimber sessions at 9 months pregnant -- to turn the baby -- will do that, I suppose.)  That comment made my day.

There's a little stretching area in an alcove off the indoor track, with mats and posters of muscular anatomy and a couple of Pilates balls.  I had Oscar sit on the mat, and Leo slept nestled on a folded sling in the V of his outstretched legs.  "Pick him up if he cries," I instructed him.  No worries.  Oscar read a chemistry book he'd brought, placidly earning a nickel a minute.

I walked briskly for five minutes, craning my neck to check on my boys at every lap, and then broke into a run.  It felt so good for the first couple of laps, all those muscles working the way I remember -- except my sports bra isn't nearly as supportive as I hoped it would be, darn it, there's another errand I have to run this week.  The next couple of laps I got winded, and after that I got pretty slow.   But I was huffing and puffing and had broken a sweat by the time five minutes had gone by, when I pulled the earbuds out of my ears and went to fetch Leo back from Oscar.

I scooped the baby up, and a white-bearded gentleman from the next mat said to me, "Oh gosh, that was such a great sight.  I wish you could have taken a picture of those two boys together.  What a great way to make sure you take care of yourself."

I smiled and thanked him as I stuffed Leo into the pouch sling.  Then I led Oscar out onto the track for an impromptu lesson in Running Track Etiquette and Safety.  The learning never ends, my friends.

Groggy.

I didn't know it was possible, but as I walked around the 1-18th-mile track that circles the top of the basketball gym at the Y, I was dozing off on the straightaways.  Just for a couple seconds, in between rounding the corners, the music from my iPod floated me away into brief interludes of microsleep.  

I must be really tired, because I didn't think tunes like "Sledgehammer" are exactly, y'know, soothing.  "Mercy Street," maybe.  But generally, I don't put that sort of thing in playlists called "Running Music 2."

Here's to hoping the baby doesn't want to chat at 4 AM anymore.  Sooner or later he is going to discover that I am not much of a conversationalist at that hour.

Self-care.

I have a rotten cold.

These days, I hate being sick.   I never minded it all that much before I became a mother.  If I'm sick, I ought to be entitled to crawl into bed and stay there, uninterrupted except perhaps by the appearance of  cups of hot lemon tea at intervals.  Also someone should bring me chicken soup.  And yet here I am, coughing and sneezing and still having to take care of other people.  What is up with that? 

Oh, and:  Did I mention that my experience with, say, coughing/sneezing/vomiting, and other diaphragmatic spasming type issues has been seriously soured ever since I gave birth the first time?

(Cue the automatic Kegels practice)

Still, chin up!  I can, generally cope pretty well with a rotten head cold, even if I don't like it.

What I don't cope well with is rotten cold PLUS six months pregnant.  I do not know how to sum up the experience except with a single word:  "OOOOOOOOF."

Last night I persuaded Mark to let me crawl into bed as soon as dinner was over and stay there.   He took care of everything and I didn't have to make dinner or clean up dinner or read bedtime stories or nurse (no, Mark doesn't lactate, but he's good at toddler distraction) or break up fights or anything.  

I started to feel less generally-awful-all-over around four in the morning.  I still had the head cold, and am still 6 months pregnant, but those two conditions had decoupled and were no longer working together to destroy me.

At first I felt a little guilty at skipping my Thursday gym night, but now that I'm awake and coping a lot better, I am struck with awe at the power of simply getting some rest.  I haven't always noticed it; I guess it's not as important when you're younger, sick or not, pregnant or not.  Although to take to your bed for a few hours is not a quick and easy remedy  -- it requires someone to take care of your responsibilities for a while, and you can't get anything done that whole time, which I suppose is the point --  the results seem darn near miraculous.  How is it that simply lying still and closing your eyes can make such a big difference?  

I don't think I will get to repeat the experience tonight, but I did announce that I wasn't going to make dinner.  Mark can pick up a pizza or something.   It's a small thing, but it does mean just a little bit of pressure off my late afternoon, and maybe the chance to sit down and put my feet up at 4:30, or put on a DVD for the kids and go take a hot shower.  I don't play that card very often, and it means I can deploy it when it really counts.

"Induced Exercise": The master index of posts.

This is an index of all my posts on the popular topic "Induced Exercise."  I will be placing it on the sidebar to the right.  

Exercise, induced and otherwise (#1):  In which I define the term "induced exercise."

Gluttony is different from sloth (#2):  You know the analogy that "gluttony is to overeating as sloth is to not enough exercise"?   It doesn't really work.

Forget moderation and embrace the unnatural (#3):  Knock yourself off balance, on purpose.

Needs (#4).  Let's be realistic:  The amount of exercise that a lot of parents, especially mothers, settle for is not enough to meet their needs.

Not self-indulgence but sacrifice (#5).  Three ways we rationalize not exercising by pretending it would be a self-indulgence; and why it can actually be a sacrifice to prioritize your own health.

Exercise in the service of your vocation (#6.) But what if exercise seems like a self-indulgence, not because you rationalize it, but because you really do have so many other priorities?  First, consider whether you can put exercise at the top of your priority list in service to your vocation.  Second, consider whether you can embrace the necessary commitment as a sacrifice, spending the time you've borrowed from your family as well as you can.

Priorities:  What are they? (#7)  What does it mean to have personal exercise at the top of your priority list?

How I learned to prioritize induced exercise (#8).  It started by prioritizing somebody else's.

Motivation (#9).  Whatever other reasons you have, don't exercise to lose weight.

Use your imagination (#10).  Imagine a person who's just like you---except that she gets regular exercise.  How does she do it?

Lay Down the TARP (#11).  My inane mnemonic for the four parts of an exercise plan:  Time slot, Activity, Route, and People.  These are broken down into posts that treat each in detail:

Learning to juggle (#12).  The T in TARP stands for time slot.  How much time do you need to set aside, and how can you fit it in?  I suggest beginning with either five minutes every day, or with two full-length sessions a week.

Become an athlete (#13)   and The athlete's attitude (#14).  The A in TARP stands for the Activity you will choose.  Choose an activity that will help you form an identity as an athlete, whether it's as an individual, as a player of a sport, as a beginner working on fundamentals, an athlete in rehabilitation, or a cross-trainer.

• And here are some other self-images besides "athlete" that you might find helpful.

Place and path (#15).  The R in TARP stands for your Route, the path along which you exercise.

 Making sure your people are taken care of (#16).  The fourth part, the P in TARP, is for People.  If you're to really focus and gain the benefits of psychological flow (here is a side note about flow), you have to be confident that someone else is watching out for your responsibilities, if only for the length of your workout.  And the plan for this has to be built in from the beginning.

What's your exercise plan? (#17)

Some exercise plans (#18).  Drawn from life and the combox and reader email.

Backup plans and transition plans (#19).  These are deviations from your "regular" plan.   Also, how to design a backup plan to keep you from missing a workout when your normal plans fall through; an intr

Transition Plans (#20).  Having a plan to carry you from one "season" to another, whether the seasons are artificial or natural, climate-based or life-change-based.  

Transition plans: Induced exercise #20.

(Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6  7  8  9  10 11  12 13  14 15  16 17 18 and 19)

Here's what I wrote a few days ago about transition plans:

But even though the main plan needs to be simple, it also has to be ready for changes, expected and unexpected.  That's what the backup plan and the transition plan are for:  to keep your induced exercise from falling through when your circumstances change.   If they are to work, they (and you) must be ready before you need them....

Transition plans are necessary when your vision for your induced exercise has "seasons" --- traditional climate-based seasons ("I cross-country ski in the winter and bike in the summer") or life-change-based seasons ("I run and lift weights most of the time, but when I'm pregnant I prefer yoga and swimming") or a season of recovery ("I'm walking right now but when my knees get better I'm going to start running").  

The transition plan prepares you for the change in seasons.  It helps you make a smooth transition between them so you're not caught off guard with the sudden failure of your workout plan (e.g., all the snow melts overnight and though your skis are still ready to go, your bike is in pieces in the garage!)  The primary goal of the transition plan is to maintain your discipline and your athletic identity as you cross from one season to another.

If your exercise program involves a change of activities with the seasons, the kind of transition plan you need depends on the way your "seasons" fit together.  

 Consider the activity for your current season, and the activity you plan for the next season.  

• Are they completely voluntary, so that you could choose to change from one season's activity to another at any time, or you could choose not to change?  (Example.  You like to bike in the summer and run in the winter, but you live in a climate where both are possible year round.)

• Is there overlap, so that you move from the season in which only one activity is possible, to a time period in which you can do either, to the season in which only the other activity is possible?  (Example.  You run outdoors in the summer, and you pay for a gym membership half the year so you can swim in the winter.  In late fall and early spring, the weather is nice enough to run but your pool membership is also active.)

• Is there an abrupt change expected, so that one day you will be able to engage in the first activity, and the next you must cease the first activity and begin the second?  (Example:  You golf at a course that will close for the season on a definite date; or you're swimming during pregnancy and you expect to start walking with the baby in a sling right after birth.) 

• Or is there a gap, so that you move from the season of one activity to a time period in which neither activity is practicable before the start of the next season?  (Example:  You bike when there's no snow, and you cross-country ski when there's lots of snow, but the spotty slush of early and late winter is no good for either.)

The key to making the leap without missing the stride is rehearsal and readiness.

If you can, during this season you should occasionally substitute a rehearsal, a workout of your next season's activity.  Let's say you plan to bike in the summer evenings and take walks in the darker, snowier evenings of winter.   Even during the summer, every once in a while, plan to take a walk, just as you will when you're not able to bike.  Walk the route you expect to take during the winter.  Take with you the gear you expect to take in the winter (e.g., even if it's light into the night, take the flashlight and reflective clothing you'll wear for an evening).  Wearing the same clothes may be unreasonable because of the weather; however, gather that clothing and gear together and check that it's ready anyway before heading out without it.   If you notice any kinks in the routine (your kids keep stealing your flashlight; you only have one comfortable pair of walking shoes and you always have to search the house for them) you'll have time to address them before the seasons change.

It's not a bad idea to have your next-season workout be part of your backup plan, by the way.  Maybe, for instance, you'll plan to walk any time it's raining.  That should give you some practice being ready for the change of seasons, at least if you're keeping your backup gear ready to go at a moment's notice.

If there is significant overlap of two seasons, use that overlap time for a planned transition.  Take the example of the half-year gym membership.  As soon as the gym membership is active, but before the weather gets too cold to exercise outside, plan to change some (not all) of your workouts to the new season.  You'll be able to maintain your intensity in the activity you've been used to while you ramp up your intensity in the new activity.  And if there's any sort of kinks in the startup (you arrive at the gym for your first swim of the season and discover a big hole in your swimsuit) you won't be missing all your workouts for that week.  

What if you have to stop one activity before the other activity starts?  Have a plan for a third activity, or else to use your backup plan, during the gap season.  If you've got a few weeks to kill between the fall of the first snow and the official opening of the cross-country ski trails, that's a great time to take an exercise class or pull out an exercise tape.  Whatever you choose, have your gear put together ahead of time so you're ready to start as soon as the first season ends, and maybe practice that transition activity a few times in advance as well.

You can also do a sort of dress rehearsal.  Gather all your gear together and drive to the place where you will exercise next season --- if you're a snowshoer, grab those winter clothes and the snowshoes and things and head to the park, even if it's 50 and sunny.  Then have a stroll or something, and go home and put the things away where you can easily get at them again when the snow starts to fall.  Or if you play racquetball Tuesday afternoons in the winter, arrange to meet your partner for a cup of coffee some Tuesday in advance of the change of seasons.  Bring your racquet and clothes (leave it in the car if you like.)

If you're to have a smooth transition, all your gear for your next season --- real and metaphorical --- should be packed, ready, and waiting at the door for you to pick up the moment you know it's time to change.

Backup plans and transition plans: Induced exercise part 19.

(Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6  7  8  9  10 11  12 13  14 15  16 17 and 18)

I wrote before that it's important to keep your workout plan (time slots, activity, route, people-taken-care-of) simple and do-able, especially for a beginner, or for someone who's had trouble with quitting in the past.  Too much variety may "spice things up" but it can keep you from seeing measurable improvement from week to week, from developing an identity, or even from evaluating whether your plan is working.  And if you start small, saving "doing more" for later, you're much more likely to see yourself following through with your commitments to yourself.

But even though the main plan needs to be simple, it also has to be ready for changes, expected and unexpected.  That's what the backup plan and the transition plan are for:  to keep your induced exercise from falling through when your circumstances change.   If they are to work, they (and you) must be ready before you need them.

The backup plan is what you rely on when your main workout plan becomes temporarily impossible.  The pool is closed; it's too hot to safely run outside; you're traveling out of town; your spouse who usually watches the kids for you can't do it today; you have a dentist appointment at the time you usually work out.   Your backup plan provides a temporary substitute for your normal exercise plan, to be deployed when your normal plan falls through.

  The primary goal of a backup plan is to preserve the habit of "showing up" for exercise.  As such, it doesn't have to fit into your "vision" of who you are; it doesn't have to match your usual plan in any way, or supplement it; it doesn't have to give you the same kind of a workout; you don't have to enjoy it very much, as long as you're willing.  It is only a secondary goal of a backup plan to maintain your fitness until the normal plan can resume within a few days.   So if you have some discretion in designing your backup plan, you can try to have it give you a workout of similar intensity to your normal plan; but your number-one-goal is to have a backup plan that you can deploy successfully on short notice.  One you can show up for.

A transition plan is different---and not everyone needs one.  Transition plans are necessary when your vision for your induced exercise has "seasons" --- traditional climate-based seasons ("I cross-country ski in the winter and bike in the summer") or life-change-based seasons ("I run and lift weights most of the time, but when I'm pregnant I prefer yoga and swimming") or a season of recovery ("I'm walking right now but when my knees get better I'm going to start running").  

The transition plan prepares you for the change in seasons.  It helps you make a smooth transition between them so you're not caught off guard with the sudden failure of your workout plan (e.g., all the snow melts overnight and though your skis are still ready to go, your bike is in pieces in the garage!)  The primary goal of the transition plan is to maintain your discipline and your athletic identity as you cross from one season to another.

Here is where the four parts of a workout plan -- time slot, activity, route, and people-taken-care-of -- can really help you:  they can be a step-by-step process of designing your backup plan and your transition plan.

  

Designing the Backup Plan

Since a workout plan has four parts that all need to work together, it's pretty easy to see that your plan will fail if any one of the four parts falls through.  So, write your workout plan down on a piece of paper where you can see it all laid out.  I find it easiest to make a separate mini-plan for each time slot.  My current plan looks like this:

Monday 10:30 a.m-11:45 a.m.  Swim 40 min, shower, and change at the YMCA while kids are in Y child care.

Thursday evening.  Run 40 minutes on the treadmill at the YMCA while husband makes sure kids get in and out of swim lessons and Y child care.

Saturday morning 7:45-9:45.  Meet friends to swim 40 min, at the Y on the other side of town while husband takes kids grocery shopping.

You see that each time slot has an activity, a place, and a plan for the children.  You see that I blocked out extra time for the swims to allow for showering and changing.  Also, you see that while there is some variety (swim or run?  which YMCA?) there is not a lot of variety.  My workouts are the same length and always at a YMCA.  There is more  consistency about it that you can't see from this plan:  for one thing, I keep all my gear, toiletries, and clothes, for swimming or for running, always packed together in the same gym bag (along with my YMCA membership card).  I don't even have to look in the bag:  if I have the bag, I know I am ready for any of my three workouts for the week.

For each of your time slots, write down these questions:

1.  What will I do if I can't exercise at this time?

2.  What will I do if I can't do my usual activity?

3.  What will I do if I can't exercise at this place (or along this route?)

4.  What will I do if my arrangements for caring for my people fall through?

Any one of the four pieces might fail.  The backup plan is not complete unless it is ready for any of the four failures.

Here are some things to think about as you go about answering the questions:

The backup plan does not have to be only one answer.  You might choose one alternative if your time slot fails, or a different alternative if your activity fails.  For example, if I have to take the kids to a doctor's appointment at 10:30 on Monday, I might simply go with the kids to the Y in the afternoon instead.  If I get an ear infection and am advised not to swim until it clears up, I might substitute running for swimming at 10:30 on Monday.  

Changing as few parts of your plan as possible keeps your plan simple and do-able.  If I can't swim because of the ear infection, I try to run at the same time and in the same place as I would have had my swim.

A given problem might be interpreted as any one of the four failures.  Let's say I arrive at the YMCA at 10:30 on Monday only to find a sign taped up across the pool door announcing that the pool is unexpectedly closed.  I might interpret this in several ways:

(a) I can't exercise now.  I have to find another time to swim.

(b) I can't exercise here.

(c) I have to do something besides swimming.

I can pick the backup plan that seems easiest in the moment.  At ten-thirty on Monday, with the kids already comfortably ensconced in the child care, that's probably to put on my running shoes and hit the treadmill instead of the pool.   But in other circumstances (say when Mark was watching the kids at home and I was really looking forward to a swim) I might instead head back out to the car and drive to the next nearest pool.  And in yet other circumstances I might have said "Let's go home kids," and rescheduled my workout for the next day.  Because I have a backup plan in mind for any of the four failures, I have extra flexibility.

This is what my backup plan looks like:

Time failures:  If I can't exercise at 10:30 Monday, I'll exercise at 4:30 and we'll have a late dinner.  If I can't exercise Thursday evening, I'll exercise Friday morning before Mark leaves for work.  If I can't exercise Saturday morning, I'll exercise Sunday morning.

Activity failures:  If ever I can't swim, I'll run instead.  If ever I can't run or swim, I'll walk, either on the treadmill or on the track.

Place failures:  If I can't exercise at this YMCA, I'll exercise at some other YMCA.  

My people-care arrangements fall through:  If I can't put my children in the YMCA childcare, I'll have to reschedule my exercise.  I'll ask my husband or my friend if they can watch my children while I exercise at a different time.

Notice that in my plan, I interpret "people-care" failures as equivalent to "time" failures.  It doesn't have to be that way, though.  One mother might keep a yoga video at home just for using when the babysitting falls through, and do that yoga tape at the same time as the "normal" workout.  Another parent might decide that when the child care falls through, it's time to hit the playground with the kids, and try to run around with them a little bit...  it wouldn't really be enough to count as a weekly workout, but it is a fun way to get everyone moving and more importantly to keep that appointment with yourself.   Remember, the crucial feature of a backup plan is that it gives you an alternative that you can show up for.

Using the Backup Plan

Once you have the backup plan designed, you must get everything ready so that you can switch to your backup plan quite literally at a moment's notice.  Sometimes you will know a few days in advance that you will have to rely on your backup plan:  for example, I usually know ahead of time when my husband is going to be out of town, and have a chance to arrange alternative child care or to reschedule my exercise.  Other times, however, you will be "caught out."  For me the classic example is arriving at the pool to find it closed for cleaning (translation:  some kid pooped in the pool).  Another example might be a sudden rainstorm that keeps you from going out for a run, or maybe your power goes out and you can't use your treadmill or your exercise videos.  Unexpected failures are not an excuse to skip your workout; instead, build into your backup plan the possibility of unexpected failure.  Get ready to switch.

Being ready to change my workout time means that the minute I realize I can't make my usual time slot, I'm on the phone with my husband figuring out when he can watch the kids so that I can make it up.  Being ready to change my workout place means that I always have my YMCA member card, so that I can be admitted to any YMCA in the city (or indeed in the country).  Being ready to change my workout activity means that I keep my gym bag packed, always, with everything I need to swim OR to run.  (That in turn means that I have two complete sets of running clothes and two lap suits, one in the laundry and one in the bag).  

I'll save the detailed discussion of the transition plan for the next post.

Some exercise plans: Induced exercise #18.

(Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6  7  8  9  10 11  12 13  14 15 and 16 and 17)

Drawn from comment box, email, and my own life.  The first one is my beginner's plan:

Plan #1:  "I'm a swimmer, an individual athlete."
Swim Monday evenings at the YMCA for 40 min while husband watches the kids.
Swim Thursday evenings at the YMCA for 40 minutes while kids are in lessons and husband watches the baby.

Later, the "baby" became comfortable in the YMCA child care and that became:

Swim Monday mornings at the YMCA for 40 minutes while the kids stay in the child care (and the oldest does his schoolwork.)
Swim Thursday evenings at the YMCA for 40 minutes while husband shuttles kids back and forth between lessons and child care, and squeezes his own lifting sessions in between.

Here's another plan:

Plan #2.  "I'm a runner, working on the basic fundamentals."
Block off the time every weekday, and exercise at the local Y three or four days a week, from 11:45 to 1, while the kids are in the YMCA child care.

This is a good plan once your kids are comfortable staying in the child care.  (It doesn't happen immediately upon signing up for a gym membership.)  I have suggested that a beginner plan a firm two days a week; but it also can work to block off the same block of time every day and then each week decide which two or three days you're going to do it.  The important thing is that you're keeping that consistent minimum.

Plan #3.  "I'm a runner, staying fit off-season (during pregnancy)."
Walk every fair weekday three miles through the neighborhood with two toddlers in the jogging stroller.

Very nice!  Walking through the neighborhood, even with the kids in the stroller, is a good "easy on, easy off" activity, as long as you keep the stroller and shoes handy.  Because of this it's an ideal activity for attempting to do every day, even beginning at five minutes and working you way up to distances measured in miles.  

By the way, when you begin an activity that requires your kids to behave a certain way (stay strapped into a stroller or play quietly in their room), working your way gradually from five minutes to longer periods might be more important for them than it is for you.   If you decide your solution is, for example, to train your children to play in their rooms while you walk on your treadmill for 30 minutes, you might well have to begin by training the children to play in their rooms every day for 5 minutes (set a timer) and then gradually lengthen the time.  Even if you can walk for more than 5 minutes, it may take some work on  your part to be able to focus on walking for more than 5 minutes.

I haven't actually tried this.  Maybe it won't work.  Just throwing it out there.

Plan #4.  "I'm a runner."
Run two days a week, plus one weekend day, through the neighborhood, while husband watches the kids.

Sounds fun... and sounds like a great opportunity to focus.

Plan #5.  "I'm an individual athlete who does strength training."
Follow the program in The New Rules of Lifting for Women at home with home equipment:
Tuesday afternoons, Thursday afternoons, or both, while the baby naps and the older children watch a video.
One weekend day, taking turns watching the children with husband.

This athlete comments that the nap/video arrangement is reaching its limit.  I learned while I was in grad school that it is incredibly frustrating to count on The Nap as a reliable source of free time.  You just can't control when The Nap starts or stops, or whether it happens at all, and sooner or later they start to grow out of them.  Yes, certainly, before The Nap disappears, find some other way of carving out the time. 

Plan #6.  "I am a runner."
Run 4 miles, 3 to 5 times a week, at 6:30 am while husband is still home with the children.
Recently added swimming, in  the same time block, 1-2 times a week at the rec center of the local college.
Plan to swim in the "off season" of pregnancy.

What I really love about this plan, what this person has done that is really, really, really smart, is that she is starting NOW (even though she is still in the season of running) to practice her "off-season" conditioning sport of swimming.  She knows she won't be able to run much during mid-to-late pregnancy, and so she's starting now to develop the alternative routine that will carry her through that time.   Which brings me to this example:

(Partially Successful) Plan #7.  "I am a cyclist."
Bike in the neighborhood, a few evenings a week, while husband is home with the children, after dinner.  When winter comes, switch to walking through the neighborhood.

This is a friend of mine who successfully bicycled like this all last summer.   Her plan fell through, though, when winter came.   She stopped biking and somehow didn't start walking.  She has told me that she thought perhaps the problem was that she never tried going for walks in the summer as an occasional alternative to cycling.  Maybe if she had done that, it would have been a smoother transition from biking most of the time to walking most of the time.  

Plan #8.  "I am a runner, in rehabilitation."
Exercise at the Y three times a week:  using the elliptical trainer while husband or friend watches the children.  If that's not possible, walk on the track with the baby while the older children stay in the child care. 

What's so great about this plan is that it has a "backup plan" built right into it.  More on backup plans later.

Now here's a plan from the combox that didn't work:

Failed plan:  Meet a friend at the Y, three times a week, to do "nautilus machines, maybe treadmill, and occasionally an aerobics class."  While the kids were in childcare.   Plus toddler gymnastics afterward.   Stopped because it took "all morning three times a week."  I never got to the place where I loved the activity or had an identity in it...where my body missed the workout when I missed one."

I hope Tabitha can write a little more about why she thinks this plan failed for her.  A couple of things stand out:  

First, could it have been more about socializing with her friend than about getting exercise?  There's nothing at all wrong with that, and lots of people do very well when they exercise with other people; but if the activity "felt" more about getting together with a buddy than about taking care of yourself, it might have gotten in the way of developing an identity as an athlete.  It seems that it would help in developing the identity of the friendship as "we're the kind of friends who meet at the gym."  But not necessarily in developing your own personal identity.  The other thing is that if you are with a friend, you may not be able to focus on the activity -- to generate psychological "flow."  The activity can be an annoying thing that makes you huff and puff too much to  carry on a conversation.

Second, were they trying to do too much?  If it really took all morning, it was probably unrealistic to expect you could keep that up as a lifestyle change.

Third, were they trying for too much variety?  If you do nautilus sometimes, and aerobics sometimes, and treadmill other times, maybe you don't have a chance to improve and to set goals at any one of them.

Next up:  Backup plans and transition plans.

If you're still with me, you have to comment on this: Induced exercise plans.

(Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6  7  8  9  10 11  12 13  14 15 and 16)

Readers who are still with me most of the way through what is turning into a very lengthy series:  Help me out.  I need some material to work with.

Got any exercise plans?  Ones you hope to do, are thinking of doing, are already doing?

Let's see if we can't get it into the TARP (or whatever) format that I described in this post, and append to it some thoughts about athletic identity and attitude.

So... in the exercise plan or plans that you are considering, that you would like to do if you could just figure it out, or are already doing.... 

(1) What's your athletic identity?

a.  "I'm an individual athlete"

b.  "I play a sport"

c.  "I'm working on the very basic fundamentals" e.g. walking to become a runner

d.  "I'm rehabilitating myself"

e.  "I'm cross-training---I do several different things"

f.   "I'm staying fit in the off-season, so to speak"

(2)  What's your sport?   What's the activity that defines what you are or what you hope to become?  Running, swimming, dancing...  (It's not necessarily what you actually do to exercise each week.  My husband would tell you he's a skier, not a runner; he runs all year to stay fit for 6-10 days of skiing.)

(3)  What are your time slots (in your plan, whether it's active or only thought of)?  

(4)  What activity?

(5)  Where?

(6)  What arrangements have you made, or might you make, for people in your care during the workout?

****

My example is my Winter '08, brand-new exercise plan:

I wanted to become a swimmer, an "individual athlete."  I planned two workouts per week, Monday and Thursday, for forty minutes.  Swimming both times.   I went to the local YMCA, where we have a family membership.  On Monday nights, I left the children with my husband Mark.  On Thursday nights, the family went to the gym together, and Mark would stay with the baby (who wouldn't stay by herself) in the child care center while I swam.   (He'd get his turn to exercise after I was done.)

****

So, those of you who do get regular exercise, tell us how.  Or if you had a plan that worked great in the past, especially a beginner plan, describe it.  Those of you who have a plan only in mind, throw it out there for us to hear.  I really want to hear from as many readers as I can on this one, because I want to use the results as a jumping-off point to write about making backup plans.

Making sure your people are taken care of: Induced exercise part 16.

(Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6  7  8  9  10 11  12 13  14 15)

Most people know that a workout plan has to include a time, a place, and an activity.  Usually the question "but where are your kids?" is kind of rolled into those three, assuming you'll mentally calculate times, places, and activities that make room for them.  I want to pull it out separately and give it equal attention.

I don't want to focus on the minutiae of leaving children in gym childcare facilities (though that is worth a post) or having your spouse care for them while you exercise or asking a friend to watch for a little while.  I want to focus on, well, focus.    If you struggle with boredom and distraction during exercise, or if you feel that the activities you're constrained to choose are drudgery, then the solution is to find a way to experience psychological flow; and to do so requires concentration, plus the perception that without concentration, you'll not meet your goal.

Psychological flow is its own reward:  

"The best moments usually occur when a person's body or mind is stretched to its limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something difficult and worthwhile.  Optimal experience is something that we make happen.  For a child , it could be placing with trembling fingers the last block on a tower she has built, higher than any she has built so far; for a swimmer, it could be trying to beat his own record; for a violinist, mastering an intricate musical passage.  For each person there are thousands of opportunities, challenges to expand ourselves."  (From Flow:  The Psychology of Optimal Experience by Czikszentmihalyi)

But flow requires concentration, and if the activity doesn't inherently require concentration, then achieving flow requires willfully creating a context of concentration:

"Flow experiences based on the use of physical skills do not occur only in the context of outstanding physical feats... Every person, no matter how unfit he or she is, can rise a little higher, go a little faster, and grow to be a little stronger.  The joy of surpassing the limits of the body is open to all.

"Even the simplest physical act becomes enjoyable when it is transformed so as to produce flow.  The essential steps in this process are:  (a) to set an overall goal, and as many subgoals as are realistically feasible; (b) to find ways of measuring progress in terms of the goals chosen; (c) to keep concentrating on what one is doing, and to keep making finer and finer distinctions in the challenges involved in the activity; (d) to develop the skills necessary to interact with the opportunities available; and (e) to keep raising the stakes if the activity becomes boring."

Czikszentmihalyi proposes the act of walking as an example of a simple activity that can be transformed into a flow activity by the setting of goals that require concentration.  I propose, maybe a bit optimistically, that walking on a treadmill or doing yoga at home in your living room can also be transformed into a flow activity, with some forethought and planning and goal-setting     and the opportunity to concentrate.    I believe habitual experience of flow is the difference between many people who love exercise, and are drawn back to it by desire, and people who hate it, avoid it, or do it only with a sense of duty.   Flow bestows a sense of meaning, purpose, competence, and (yes) fun on the most prosaic of activities (I used to get it from writing computer code!).  You deserve to be able to achieve it.

And this is why I believe it's crucial (if you're to become someone who enjoys exercise) to make sure your people --- your children or anyone else you're responsible for --- are completely taken care of while you are getting your exercise.  

You can't achieve flow without focus.  You can, of course, exercise without focus and do without flow.  But why would you, if you can find a way to get it?

For most people, total focus on the activity at the same time as being responsible for small children is either (a) impossible, because part of the attention is always on the children---listening for sounds of distress or wakefulness, or watching out of the corner of the eye; or (b) dangerous, because none of your attention is focused on the children.

It should be obvious by now that I'm speaking to people who try to get their exercise at home, while they are alone in the house with the children; or who hope that they can get it with their kids by their side.  I am arguing that to settle for this is to deny yourself the benefits of flow.  Only if somebody else can respond to all your small children's concerns short of real emergencies, are you free to concentrate enough to achieve it.

Achieving flow through exercise with children younger than 3 or older than 10 is, I think, workable.  One can run with a jogging stroller, or walk briskly with a baby in a backpack; and a 10-year-old can be a real workout partner, if she wants it as much as you do!  

But those 3 through 9 year olds... They are too big to carry, and they are not big enough to keep up with many adults who are really exerting themselves.  They also are not usually big enough to be completely responsible for themselves, or to be completely responsible for younger siblings.  Hannah and I tried to brainstorm  ways to get real vigorous exercise with a passel of mid-sized kids, and the only thing we could come up with is running around playing chasing games in a big yard or field---though even that can end in tears before you really want to be done.

So this post is a sort of appeal:  Even if you are sure that you can only exercise at home anyway, still, try not to settle for exercising while you're the only responsible person around.  Naps and videos are simply not reliable enough.  Exercise in the morning or evening or lunch hour while your spouse is home, and instruct the kids to take their concerns to him.  Arrange to take turns with another mother.  Hire a mother's helper.  Begin training an older child how to be responsible for ninety percent of their younger siblings' needs for fifteen minutes or half an hour, and how to tell when it's time to call Mom.

Give yourself a chance to know that your people are taken care of for the block of time you've allowed, be it five minutes daily or a big block of time twice a week.  Give yourself the freedom to lose yourself in body motion, to experience a sense of competence and challenge.  It may be difficult to arrange if you're "just" following videos on the floor of your living room; but the first step to making it possible is giving yourself the gift of concentration.

Next up:  How to make a backup plan!

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Note:  Two books by Czikszentmihalyi are available in "limited preview" on Google Books.  One is Optimal Experience:  Psychological Studies of Flow in Consciousness and the other is Finding Flow:  The Psychology of Engagement with Everyday Life.  I haven't read either of these yet, but maybe they will give you a taste of the material.