The first run...

I went for a run yesterday. 5.02 km at 41:27. The Nike iPod thingie tells me this burned 376 calories.

I have flat feet from an unfortunate sojourn in the infantry. I also haven't run for months, since serious shin splints started making my life hell.

This time I was more circumspect, walking when I was feeling stressed and running when I felt good to go. Tierce was running with me.

Running with Tierce must account for a few more calories burned than normal. He is not the ideal dog to run with; he likes running ahead and pulling on the lead, stopping only when I roar profanity at him. Or, he decides to pee - waiting, of course, until he comes to the end of his leash and jerks me out of stride.

We also practice "mindful running" where I am mindful of where rabbits are likely to be so Tierce doesn't gut me when he charges after them (I have a flexi-lead waist band). I am also aware of where Tierce and the leash are in regards to cyclists and other runners, so he does not clothesline anyone while I'm blissfully rocking out to the music du jour or my collection of Librivox ghost tales.

At some point I'm going to whip a measuring tape around me (glad to put it off another day), but I really have to get away from the computer and spend an hour or so lifting weights so I can stop putting it off.

Because I'm all that and a bag of chips... seriously

In my 20s, I was fit as hell - I could do 45 pushups and bench press 155 pounds. Yay, me. Now I can scarcely get through half the pushups and haven't done a barbell bench press in a frighteningly long time (I can still do 60 lb dumbbells, though. Rawr.)

Exercise and myself have had a long and tenuous relationship. Sometimes we get along swimmingly, but sometimes when it comes time to keep appointments with Exercise, I am much more inclined to dally on the computer or stay in bed or dawdle in between sets until it's time to prepare for work or whatever.

However, I am determined to change my ways. While I think that my weight does not matter as much as my size and how I feel, I have a sneaking suspicion that the nearly-180 pounds that I weigh now could be chiseled down somewhat. I'm a size 12 and I think that a 10 is a much preferable number. I have not done any measurements, not that I'm eager to, but I think that I should publish them in hopes of later blogging my triumphant shrinkage.

Today I tried out my new Nike + system with my iPod and it was fun, particularly because it was one of those rare combinations of good weather and a weekend that fall so rarely on us mortals who toil during the week. I thought it was a neat system, but I question the accuracy of the calorie counter, although I would be thrilled if the numbers shown to me are somewhat near what I am actually burning.

I also have a small dog who accompanies me on these walks and runs and who comes occasionally to inspect my face when I do pushups and sometimes makes me cycle off of cliffs when I play with the Wii Fit Plus by nudging my knee with his nose.

Tierce is a Shiba inu, a breed of dog bred for running up and down mountains in search of animals that it can kill. He makes a good companion on walks, runs and hikes, but is rather poor at feedback. I therefore thought that a fitness blog with Nim might be more effective at getting me off the computer and down on the floor doing pushups or outside, frolicking with the dog.

Nim: Destroyer of Little Orange Cut-out Metal Animals

Today was my day off; the one day off that I get in a whole week actually. And instead of spending it sleeping in and lounging around like a big—somewhat stiff—couch potato after last night's back-to-the-gym workout, I got up at 7:30 in the morning to go out to a black powder trail shoot with my friend Greg.

Now, Greg, who is my brother in another life-time, has been working on getting me into shooting for a while now. He talked about taking me to the range to try it out for about a year before last summer when we finally made it out to the range to have a go at it. Since then we've spent some rather pleasant afternoons out at the local range, with him shooting and then me shooting.. and then him telling me that I don't suck. And since I know enough not to sweep anyone with the muzzle or use a revolver to gesticulate with.. I think I'm doing okay.

So, this morning we headed out at a ridiculously early hour for a Saturday outing and arrived at the Nanaimo Fish and Game Club for a morning of black powder trail shooting. There were about a dozen really friendly people—mostly men, but a few women too—who turned up to shoot this morning and we grouped up with a couple of other shooters and headed out as the last foursome across the skeet shooting field onto the trail. The skeet shooting range is almost surreal to walk across; I don’t know how long that it has been going on in that location but there are so many smashed clay pigeons scattered across the field that you feel like you’re walking across a beach thick with layers of broken shells.

We entered the trees and walked up the path to the beginning of the trail where everyone loaded while we waited our turn. Black powder is a really interesting type of shooting; much of the culture is concerned not just with the shooting aspect of it, but also the related skills and activities from the early pioneer-days like leather working and outdoor cooking. Even without going to an event where everyone has dressed up in their appropriate clothes for such a time period, I can really see how the feeling of being in this time period could happen.

Black powder shooting, even when your targets are little metal cut outs of animals painted day-glo orange, really gives you an interesting feel for shooting. I got to shoot a variety of long guns, both flintlock and percussion cap styles, and immediately was hooked. While I’m sure that some of this result was due to the fact that I hit about 75% of my targets, I’m sure that it was also a result of the flash of the sparks right in front of me, the pouf of smoke, and the smell of real gunpowder every time I fired. Everyone in my group let me fire their gun and was very encouraging with their hints and tips for my stance and aiming; making me feel very comfortable and at ease.

I’m looking forward now, even more, to taking my firearms course and working on my skills. There is nothing more empowering than learning a new skill, especially ones that kept our ancestors alive a few hundred years ago that aren’t common anymore.

The Return of Nim in the Gym: take 1

Well.. after a few months of pondering a return to the gym, and a couple of weeks of cursing over my almost new jeans that I couldn't comfortably wear after devouring every Xmas goodie I could get my hands on.. I returned to the gym today.

Well, maybe "returned to the gym" is a little misleading; I went to the gym that I used to frequent and worked out. One time. Today.

What did I learn, you ask? Well, it seems that they've removed some of the weight machines and installed more cardio machines, which in itself isn't a bad thing, if you like cardio. (Imagine me making a bad face here, because really, I am) They STILL don't have any barbells or a Smith machine there either, which is scandalous. Also, I learned to NOT go to the gym on a Friday night because the place is literally CRAWLING with teenagers. And, I learned that the old gym routine that I discovered on my computer that someone made for me three years ago isn't going to cut it.

I had grandiose plans of using a workout schedule in the book The New Rules of Lifting For Women but honestly, they didn't appeal to me very much. The way that people work out can be so particular that I think it's hard to just make one regime and give it to everyone. So, I'm going to take aspects of that and blend it with exercises that I like (and can do in the facility that I go to) and see how that goes.

Before I settle on a new gym—and fork out the gobs of money that they want—I'm also going to check out another gym close to where I live that has 24 hour access. It's kind of a neat concept and I have a friend who goes there so I might have a gym buddy too.

Why do I keep forgetting how much I enjoy this?

Chapter 1: In Which We Find Bravewolf and Nim Beginning Their Adventure in Fitness...

... yet again.

Both of us have enjoyed a range of fitness levels; from couch potato to gymrat and just about everything in between. However, due to latent ambivalence and apathy over the last few months (wow, understatement much?) we've both been slacking. Keep in mind that slacking for Bravewolf is far less slacky than it is for me, a mom and avid gamer; at least she rides her bike to work and home everyday!

Enough with the self-chastising however, and on with the journey.. such as it is.