At the start of every training year, I commit to doing one more thing to make myself fitter, stronger, faster. Last year I overhauled just about everything in a bid to get in the best shape of my life after 50, for my book Older, Faster, Stronger (coming out in October with Rodale Books).
So what was left to tackle?
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This is the first thing I did on my road to super fitness.
Lost 10 pounds in five weeks. Super-charged my energy and health. Didn’t count a single calorie. And developed a new delicious way of eating that feels as if it will stabilize my weight for life.
When my nutritionist/personal trainer Kirsten Bedard suggested doing a version of the paleo diet, I may have grunted, intentionally disparaging our ancestral heritage. No grains? No dairy? Are you kidding me? As a menopausal marathoner, I figured those two major food groups were exactly what I needed. Plus, I had just finished writing a book about sustainable, local and organic foods, and now I was supposed to go pre-agriculture?
“Just try it for two weeks,” she said.
I tried to get my family doctor to say going paleo was crazy. He didn’t. Nor did a sports physiologist and a sports medicine doctor I consulted. “It’s the way we were meant to eat,” was their common response.
That was four months ago.
Except for one or two meals a week – I’m not a fanatic — I have eliminated virtually all processed food, sugar and grains from my diet, and my only dairy is a tablespoon of Greek yogurt and two tablespoons of cottage cheese over a breakfast bowl of fruit. My meals consist of all the veggies I can eat (though not much corn or white potatoes); fruit; protein in the form of meat, fish and eggs; and good fats such as avocado, olive oil, flax and nuts (though not peanuts). My carbs come from vegetables and fruit, which pack a lot more nutritional punch per calorie than high-glycemic grains and rice. And with my menopausal metabolism slowing down yet heavy marathon training to fuel, I need excellent calories not junk calories.
Kirsten warned me that I might feel a bit wonky in the second week as my brain grew accustomed to its new chemistry. I felt fantastic, like I was super charging my system on micronutrients and vitamins. Before paleo, I had crashing fatigue nearly every afternoon, yes, about an hour after eating a sandwich. Now my moods and energy stay high – and steady – throughout the day. And the deep muscle soreness I experienced after a hard long run has abated. Next day, I am sufficiently recovered — and keen even — to do a major strength-training session for my legs and some kick-ass core work. Paleo experts say the diet aids in muscle building – perhaps my stunning new glutes can be Exhibit A and B in that case.
I did learn (by getting very light headed) that supplemental glycogen loading is required to fuel hard workouts longer than an hour. Kirsten recommends a “timed release” of carbs by taking a power bar or gel before and fueling with gels or sports drinks during the workout. As I’m not a fan of processed food, I’m still experimenting with alternatives – two majool dates stuffed with almond butter sustains a hard 90-minute interval training session.
I’ll talk about the science and application of paleo a lot more in my book, as well as my most excellent paleo stools. But for now, no more disparaging comments about Neanderthals. Call me Cavemam and I’ll take it as a compliment.
Admit it. You’d love to have the experience and wisdom of fifty, but packaged in the body of a twenty something.
Whoa, I discovered it’s actually possible.
Last Wednesday, a month before I turn 50, I stepped on a set of whoop tee do scales at my personal trainer’s. It calculates a whole whack of things — bone and muscle density, water percentage, weight — including health age.
My health age, thanks to marathon running, is 26 and that’s a super-fit 26 year old.
Most runners have a time goal for the marathon. In training for Boston this April, a week after my 50th birthday, I set a goal of being in the best shape of my life — and finishing the marathon happy.
No question, I’ve already achieved goal one. Late for my annual physical last week, I jumped off a streetcar stalled in rush-hour traffic and ran the last four kilometres to my doctor’s office, arrived barely breaking a sweat and registered a heart rate of 68 and low blood pressure. Doctor pronounced me in excellent health.
Proud? Damn right I am. Determined? Even more so.
Certainly, I love the aesthetic benefits of being super fit. In three years of marathon training, I shed about 20 pounds and got rid of sags, saddle bags, chins, cheeks and even thigh bulges I’ve had since I was a kid and I thought would never disappear without plastic surgery (were I so inclined, which I’m not). Running has, as many of my running buddies have told me, literally transformed my body.
I love being strong. Physical challenges don’t daunt me (climb Kilimanjaro, as I did last year? No problem. Run a half marathon right after that? Bring it on). My body is a vehicle that carries me around the city — running, walking, cycling — with sweet joy and little effort.
Best of all, I love the healthy productive decades that being fit will give me to make big dreams come true.
Hitting 50 is about going after the thing you’ve always wanted to do — start that business/dream career/volunteer/ political work that allows the highest expression of your values; commit to deep learning (in books, adventure, psychological horizons); end the negative relationships; grow the positive ones; start the farm/art form to feed the world organic goodness.
As a writer, I feel I’m just hitting my stride. For whatever reason, I’ve explored virtually every genre a writer can, run down the path of poetry, playwriting, screenwriting, journalism, fiction. Now all that experience is coming together as I tackle big projects this year, and I want decades more work time for creative pursuits.
How much would it suck if my body were giving out at this glorious moment?
But what does it take to turn the age calendar backwards?
Here’s a look at this week’s training schedule — a peak week leading into Boston.
Sunday: 35 kilometre long run with about 10 major hills.
Monday: Stretching out those tight leg muscles.
Tuesday: 18 kilometres.
Wednesday: 8 kilometres and a one-hour personal training session with leg-strength training and ab work.
Thursday: 16 kilometres with fast tempo, hills.
Friday: 15 kilometre run.
Saturday: One-hour ab workout (equivalent of 500 sit-ups) and weight training.
Total Kilometres: 92
Total Hours of training: 12 to 14.
I didn’t get there over night. It took me three years to build up from three 6-kilometre runs a week to Boston qualifier. Put another way, it only took three years.
And it’s a true anti-aging formula. No B.S. No snake oil.