Lifestyle Fitness Camp Part 1

Lifestyle Fitness Camp

Who hasn’t struggled with weight gain/loss?  OK, my Ukraine camp mate tells me her husband is rail thin.  There is always an exception.  Through the years we learn what works and what doesn’t work.  I know, for example, that if I walk 3 miles or 1 hour a day, I will lose weight without resorting to special diets.  I usually eat healthily; once I exercise my metabolism changes and my body changes food demands with the end result that loss occurs.

As for those who need to gain weight, well what can I say, you may feel cursed but we sigh with envy at the thought.

My problem starts with the extraordinary adventure of opening a bread shop.  I never had enough responsible employees, and there were far too many 12 and 14 hour work days.  There was never time or energy to shop for and prepare healthy vegetable meals.  Bread was a quick and easy remedy for hunger and fatigue.  In three years of that I had put on quite a few pounds.

In China I discovered Herbalife shakes.  These were a god send.  I still had my treadmill in my apartment.  I dusted it off and once or twice a week I used it.  The thing that caused me to lose 10 pounds that way was the simple fact that I had a nutritious meal twice a day with nothing more than water, a blender, and powdered mix.  Being soy based I did not get the dreadful flatulence side effects that whey based shakes had produced in the past.  In that way I cut out most of the bread I was eating.

Of course, the results did not last forever, as long as I was slave to the bakery ovens.  However, taking that step backwards into negative weight gain probably saved me from being much worse than I am today.

This past year, for reasons you can read on other posts to this blog, I have led a nomadic existence.  It was difficult in that situation to find that special zone that dieting requires.  I tried, God knows I tried.  I even joined Planet Fitness for a month introduction, although I was on the move again after only two weeks.  I was appalled to discover that for a regular membership one is required to turn ones bank account number over to them.  I would never.  I did work out nearly every one of those fourteen days, though.

Now I am living in Mexico, but my life is still not stabilized.  My new house is not finished; I am renting an apartment in town.  There are only three other ex pats, all male, none eligible.  The locals, though kind and sympathetic people, view me with suspicion because I do not fit into a cultural box.  All kinds of rumors are flying (one of those ex pats loves to gossip; if I push him, he’ll tell me what they are saying about me).

The town has a strong drug cartel presence, because (so I am told) poppies and marijuana are grown there in remote fields.  It is all done very discreetly.  The town is safer than another might be, because there is a peaceable balance between the police and them, and they do not want any trouble that might bring notoriety.

My gossipy fellow ex pat tells me that thieves came into his home and robbed some tools from him.  He reported it to his friend who is in the cartel.  The next day, all the items were returned.  The cartel was not responsible for the theft, but they quickly found out who was.  I am assured that as long as I did not run afoul of the ‘drugistas’ I could feel safe and secure.  Of course, one of the speculations surrounding me is that I might have been sent by some enforcement agency, since why on earth would a single woman come to live in this god-forsaken place.

I am impatient to get settled.  At Christmas I rented this apartment in town.  It was supposed to be furnished, but beyond appliances and two beds it is not.  It is up two double flights of stairs.  Eventually I would learn that the landlord has stored furniture, I need only ask.

I feel at sixes and sevens.  Although I succeeded in obtaining my residency permit, my car did not.  Because it is so old I am not allowed to put Mexico plates on it.  The Florida plates attract too much attention.  I succeeded in extending the car’s permit, but I would rather sell it and buy a Mexican car.  In order to do this, the rules say I must take the Volkswagen out of the country permanently.  Not wanting to delay the purchase of a newer car, I planned a trip to do just that.  I have an old friend in El Paso, we have been corresponding, and time was ripe for a personal visit.

Now things were coming to a head regarding my health.  I could no longer ignore the problems it created.  I had no energy.  I could spend days in the house except to buy groceries.  Moving things from the country house to the apartment required many, many trips up and down the stairs with heavy boxes.  I would arrive at the top landing gasping for breath.  The dog, Dog, found the slippery stairs daunting.  She would sit on the second stair within range, she had learned, of my arms, and look up at me expectantly.  She can’t be 10 pounds, but I would have to rest half way up.

This is a totally unacceptable state of health for me.  I have always been an active person of the athletic sort, although I never participated in sports.  If I waited until my life has settled down to a set routine in order to find that ‘zone’, I would be suffering for a long time yet to come.  As I began to plan my trip to El Paso, I also began to google ‘fat camps’. 

One part of me thought such a large financial expenditure was outlandish.  The other part of me was of a mind that, no matter what it takes, I will get back into shape.  I have to admit I am desperate.

Of the different options that appeared in the search, there was one that stood out both for its economy and its plan.  It is called ‘Lifestyle Fitness Camp’, and it is in St. George, Utah, two hours from Las Vegas.

No more than five people could attend the ‘camp’ at one time.  The classes would be small and personable.  Each person cooks his own meals, with coaching from Jen. The cost of the food and of a gym membership were included in the price.  Our host and hostess are a couple, Jen and Chad Bullen.

I had to raid my retirement investments, my emergency medical funds, to pay for it.  Well, this is a medical emergency, isn’t it.  I looked at airfares, but decided driving (including the cost of gas and motels) would be cheaper than flying, and more interesting.  I might even get to visit friends from the China days on the way.

And so I booked my reservation at the camp and headed out on January 10 to visit Nelson in El Paso, and then on to St. George.

Visiting with my friend was lovely.  Getting acquainted with someone I knew 50 years ago is fascinating.  Reconciling the person I remember with the person sitting in front of me was disconcerting.  The gentle, humorous caring person I knew had managed to withstand the intervening years without ever developing ambition.  He had his humble goals, he developed a successful career as an EFL (English as a Foreign Language) teacher in China, and afterward he managed to establish himself in a small apartment in El Paso.  He has a circle of mostly Mexican friends, though he apparently also interacts at the Senior center down the street from his Texas home.  Since he was raised in Mexico, he has simply fallen back to what is most comfortable.  He is still the gentle caring person I knew, but a jagged brown smile indicates how he has not taken good care of himself.  He is selfless, a pauper for never learning to say ‘no’ to another’s need.  My Jewish friend tells me his goal has been to live like a humble Jesuit.

I met with someone who wanted to buy the car, but a last minute online check of airfare persuaded me I would be better off driving.  The trip should be a 12 hour drive.

I have a Dutch friend living in Albuquerque.  She was a weekly mahjong partner in China; her husband was a witty and warm fellow.  I contacted them, but learned that Joze was feeling under the weather with a cold and not up to company.  I drove through Albuquerque anyway, rather than the Interstate through Flagstaff, so I could travel through Native American reservation land.

On the road I realized that I was going through 8 ounces of antifreeze from the reservoir for each tank of gas.  The Mexican village mechanic had said that he fixed the leaking hose.  I hope the hose is the only issue, that it won’t blow, and that I can get it replaced before I make the return trip.

I arrived at the ‘camp’ around 8 p.m. Saturday night.  Usually a participant arrives on Sunday, but I had gotten approval to come early.

Naturally, I had wondered what this ‘camp’ would look like.  The web site showed pictures of hiking trails.  Was it a country ranch, I speculated?  When I finally found the place in the dark, it was a house.  Large houses were lining both sides of a ¼ mile circular road inside a development, Boulder Springs Villa.  The front door opened upon a cathedral high foyer, with a stair well along the left side.  I was shown to my room, on the right side, with two beds, a walk-in closet and a bathroom with a separate shower and a Jacuzzi tub.

So this was the ‘camp.’   Hardly camping out, eh? 

Facing the road and next to the gates to the housing development is a gym.  Twice a day I would be leaving the house, walking around the tennis court, and work out there.

A young woman greeted me at the door and showed me to my room.  Then Jen entered the house, and introduced herself.  She also introduced the young lady, Julia from Jersey City, the only other ‘client’ or camp participant.  I quickly learned she would be leaving at the end of the week, and I would have this huge house all to myself.

Jen said she would be by the next day to get me started.  We negotiated a time.  As it turned out, she and her large family would go to church in the morning (this being Utah, that would be the Mormon church) and come by in the afternoon.  This would give me a chance to find the Catholic church and attend Mass.

As it turned out, though I had studied the map on Google Maps, I became hopelessly lost Sunday morning.  I drove round and round, up and down the streets named E 100 S, and W 100 N.  I gave up and went back to the house to wait for Jen.

Jen came by to introduce me to the food plan.  The fridge and pantry are well stocked with healthy foods and staples.  She explained that she would be coaching me through meal planning to meet my caloric intake requirements.  These would be determined on Monday, when she would take me to the hospital and I would sit in the ‘bod pod’.  Or BodPod®  This medical review would determine my ratio of body fat/muscle, and give me a base to start my plan.

We took a tour of the gym.  It is a large facility, with both a heated indoor and outdoor pool, and two stories of equipment.  The running track on the second floor runs the perimeter of the balcony.  The machines, like treadmills and bicycles, are all on the second floor.  The weight machines are on the first floor, of all description.  There are rooms; a training room, where we would meet every day, with balls and weights and floor mats.  There is a spinning room.  There is the ‘classroom’ for yoga and zuma and other such group activities.  A basketball court is part of the view when from the running track, and I would come to see different training classes down there, as well as basketball players.  And there is a tiny room with a bed, just in case one overdoes it and passes out.  The abundant number of trainers present reduces the chance of that happening, however.

On Monday morning Jen picked me up at 7 a.m. and we drove to the hospital.  She left me there, and picked me up afterwards.  The only thing I clearly remember was sitting in the bodpod.  It is an egg-shaped capsule, like a one-man space ship.  Once seated and closed inside, the air pressure changed.  It did not take long, perhaps 30 seconds.  A printout of the results showed me that my body was 47% body fat.  What?!?  In the flood of data that the technician interpreted, I forgot to ask:  What is a healthy body fat percentage?

I now had my packet of sheets printed with data about my health.  Jen met me, and we went to the gym.

Julia met us there, and we began the workout.  Jen explained that at 7 am and 2 pm we would be at the gym.  Chad would alternate as trainer.  We would rotate in three-day cycles, beginning with core body workout, then next day upper body, then lower body.  We would gradually strengthen the body, while burning about 700 calories a day.  We would eventually use each of the machines and workout equipment. 

This accounted for two hours each day.  At 10 am on four days, Chad would take us out of town to a three-mile hiking trail.  St. George is situated in a beautiful place.  It is surrounded by wind-sculpted sandstone rock, mountains, and desert paths.  Then on Friday we would take a long, maybe five-mile hike, and be free for the rest of the day.  Weekends also were self-regulated times.

On that first day Jen brought out the scale and measuring tape.  Each week on Thursday we would again be weighed and measured.

Tuesday night I lie in bed reflecting on my experience so far. Two hours of workout and a long walk.  Would that get me the results I wanted?  Which sparked the thought:  We did not take a ‘before’ picture.  In the morning, in panties and bra, I did my best to capture my zophtic figure in pixels.  By then I had already gone down at least a half inch, but it was gross enough to merit a contrast at the end of my three or four weeks—I have not yet determined which it will be—stay here at the Lifestyle Fitness Camp.

Now I have completed a full one week of the program.  When I arrived my sweatpants waste band tie allowed only a half knot.  Now I can easily tie a full slip knot in it.  I know I am making progress.  At WalMart on the weekend I found a Slim-Fast box for $45 that advertising itself as being enough food for two months, claiming a ten pound weight loss.  I bought it to take back to Mexico.  We consumers are so easily tricked.  

It occurs to me that what I am doing is building up a framework.  I am building up muscles, and improving the efficiency of my metabolism.  Once that is established, It will take much less work to maintain, and then I can focus on losing weight after leaving here.

Meals are easy to plan here, with a great abundance of fresh vegetables.  I think three weeks of ‘framework building’ will be enough.  Meanwhile, I have bought a set of straps or bands.  It will be my task to learn how to use them effectively, to maintain the muscle tone I have built without access to a gym.  I will build up a routine that I can maintain in Mexico.  If I had internet access, I could just watch YouTube exercises; but in Mexico I don’t.  

I worry about not being able to find the right foods once I have returned home.   I tried the Paleo diet a year ago; it was hard to eliminate all breads.  But possible.  I am there again; breads, even tortillas, are high calorie.  The packaged kind here in Utah, however, have added ingredients and are thick, at 55 calories each.  I think the ones in Mexico are lower in calorie, so that I can make a meal with two. Knowing this should be helpful.  My meals need to be limited to about 300 calories each, or a total of less than 1,000.  The latter number is my maintenance caloric intake.  I figure I need five hours of exercise a day to bring myself to a negative balance.  A thousand in, a thousand out. 

An important tool in developing and maintaining a healthy caloric-appropriate food plan is MyFitnessPal.com. I am sure there are other similar sites, but I find this one easy to use.  Now I can look up foods for their caloric value online, at MyfitnessPal.  In Mexico my internet access will be very limited.  I am developing a list for myself, of most common foods and their calories.  My current routine has me weighing foods, and charting calorie intake in the notebook that Jen has given me.

The weekend is time for recovery.  My mind finds it hard to relax, though.  I am focused on a task.  It is hard to sit idle, while my muscles recover.  Friday, after our five mile walk, I went to the gym and did a workout on the machines, and then rode the recliner bike for an hour. Later in the day I went to the pool and swam for 15 or 20 minutes.

Saturday morning I focused on shopping.  I mentioned the Slim Fast package.  As I read the label more carefully, I discovered that in order to achieve what was written in large letters on the package, ‘Lose ten pounds in three weeks’, I would need to carry three of these large packaged home with me.  Oh well, the one package of five days-worth of food would take care of me through the travel home to Canatlan.  To take back to Mexico I added digital kitchen scale and a veggie chopper, things I am pretty sure I can’t find easily there.  I also found a yummy soy based chocolate protein shake.  Lately my body has not been digesting whey or milk-based products.  I wish I had enough luggage allowance on the plane to carry back a few bottles of this shake powder, but I do not.  I will have to do the search again in Mexico, for the right protein powder.

Saturday I actually rested!  Julia left in an airport shuttle at 8:30.  I went to WalMart after our farewells.  I have fallen into a sleep pattern of getting to bed at 8:30, listening to the radio for a while and then sleeping.  By 4:30 a.m. I had enough sleep, and ready to get up.  Saturday I decided to try to find WalMart before breakfast.  I got lost, and wound up on a dark road with no lights in sight.  Then I came upon a county road with a sign pointing to US 15.  Once I hit the freeway I headed south, knowing that WalMart is at exit 4 south.  In a couple of miles I entered Arizona.  I turned around and headed north, until exit 4.  I found WalMart and parked, congratulating myself.  Then I reached for my purse; it wasn’t there. I had left it home. 

On Sunday I went again on a hunt for the Catholic church.  I had attempted to attend Mass the previous week but could not find the church.  This time I studied Google Earth more closely and found it.

Friday Chad needed to take his mother to a suburb of Salt Lake City, to visit his grandmother.  She had broken her pelvis a week earlier, so they were visiting her to cheer her up.  Before he left he got a phone call informing him that the grandmother fell again and broke her ribs.  This made the trip more serious; she would probably need to enter a nursing home.  The situation quickly deteriorated, and on Sunday Jen informed me that their grandmother had passed away.  This would require a much longer stay for Chad, leaving Jen alone to take care of their four sons, run the Program, and plan for the family to drive north for the funeral. 

Chad was back for our Tuesday workout.  I learned that the family would be driving up to Salt Lake City Thursday afternoon.  Another trainer, Chantelle, would be doing the Thursday afternoon boot camp hour with me.  I suggested that I could do the five-mile hike Friday by myself.  I could plug in my audiobook, and not have to make conversation the whole way.

After Mass I attended a yoga stretch class at the gym.  I did another hour on the reclining bicycle, and called it enough.

I really do need to give my body more recovery time.  There is TV available, but very few channels.  There are no movie channels.  I brought a crochet project with me.  I shall focus more on that in the coming days, resting on the sofa at home.

My favorite recipe so far:

Roast 1 cup of quinoa in a frying pan.  Once roasted, put that into a sauce pan and add 2 cups of water.  Add mixed veggies on top of the water, put the lid on, and cook for 15 minutes, lowering the temperature once it has boiled.

When it cools, add rice or apple vinegar, salt to taste.  Add one chopped tomato and parsley. Divide into four containers and refrigerate.  This gives four meals of about 200 calories each.

Get creative with the vegetable mix.  Cut dense veggies, like carrots or winter squash, into small pieces, like cubes, so that they will be sufficiently cooked in that time.  For even more variety, substitute cilantro for parsley.

A great big bowl of veggies, whether cooked or raw, fills and staves off hunger for many hours; all within the calorie limit.