Brynn Barineau

Tag: fitness

  • Diagnosis: Information Overload

    Diagnosis: Information Overload

    The Internet is amazing.  Easy communication between continents, quick access to the rules on semicolon usage, and adorable animal videos.  What’s not to love?  Well, for me, the gross amount of information available on pregnancy and mothering.  Here is a tiny sample of the useful info the Internet has provided me concerning pregnancy.
    Google query:  “What to eat while pregnant?”
    You absolutely have to get enough folic acid, vitamin C, Calcium, iron and about a dozen other things while pregnant or your baby will not have a fully developed spinal cord, skeleton, or eyebrows. You can get these things from dark green vegetables, citrus fruits, beans, milk, yogurt, steak, eggs.

    Google query: “gas and indigestion while pregnant”

    You will inevitably suffer from gas and indigestion.  In the case of severe pain avoid eating dark green vegetables, citrus fruits, beans, and dairy products.

    Google query: “Foods to avoid while pregnant”

    Avoid any undercooked meat and eggs and any unpasteurized dairy or fruit juices.  Consuming these will cause terrible bacteria to eat your baby.

    Google query: “Important nutrients while pregnant”

    You really, really need to eat a lot of iron, which the body easily absorbs from meat and eggs, spinach and beans.

     

    An hour of this will make a sane person’s head explode.  You should eat beans and broccoli but not if you want to avoid being doubled over with gas pain.  You should eat lots of meat and dairy but only if it’s been pasteurized or cooked until it can be used as a spare tire.  This is the curse of too much information.  Spend enough time researching and you will inevitably end up with contradictory information.   If it’s not flat out contradictory, it will at least make every bite of salad cause for an anxiety attack and present you with the choice of gritting through passing a beach ball through your intestines or depriving your baby of vital nutrients.  And we all know which option a good mother would choose.

    During my first few weeks, I had pretty much convinced myself there was no way the baby could make it out of my uterus alive when I had my first consultation with Dr. Paulo Batistuta.  Leaning back in his chair, he listened while I asked about eating fish and peanut butter and salad prepared by anyone’s hands other my own.  He smiled and said “Go ahead enjoy.”  Restaurants don’t do very good business if their patrons get sick, so they keep their food clean and fresh.  As long as my peanut butter is made in the USA, it’s no problem.  (Remember, Brazilian peanuts can carry a liver-eating fungus.)  And fish? Well, of course. Moqueca capixaba is delicious, isn’t it?  Yes, doctor.  Yes it is.  And thanks to you, I will now be able to enjoy it without a side of guilt.

    Internet research is basically the only skill I got in college and it has become something of a curse since being pregnant.  Dr. Paulo is exactly the zen master this patient needs.  Eat a balanced diet. Cook everything until there’s no pink.  Stop using Google.  Everyone will be fine.

  • My Brazilian Gym Membership Part 3: Dress Code

    My Brazilian Gym Membership Part 3: Dress Code

    Most ads don't reflect reality...this one does. This is exactly how many women show up to my gym.
    Most ads don’t reflect reality…this one does. This is exactly how many women show up to my gym.

    I’ve been a regular at our new gym for one full week and I have to say I’m a bit of a standout.  People come up to me and ask where I’m from.  The trainers notice me and wave from across the gym.  I notice guys doing a double take.  Not to brag but people notice me.  Yup, I have the distinction of being the most conservatively dressed woman in the gym.

    With my t-shirts and running shorts, I might as well be using an American flag as a towel. It’s not just the fact that my abdomen is entirely covered that sets me apart.  I’m not wearing eyeliner or chandelier earrings and I haven’t left my waist-length hair streaming down my back. The Brazilian women at my gym are the sexiest collection of gym goers I’ve ever seen.  It’s like working out in a Flo Rida music video.

    There’s more leopard print here than on a jungle safari.  You can also see a good deal of paisley in all the colors of the rainbow.  Every outfit is perfectly matched and accessorized.  A flower-print sports bra paired with striped shorts?  Major faux-pas!

    Most of the women avoid the risks of mismatching by just going with the unitard.  Until recently, the unitard was, for me, merely a myth.  An extinct manner of dress that could be seen in historic records and frequently used in comedy sketches, like the toga.

    I’m pleased to report the unitard is alive and popular here in Brazil.  Surprisingly, there is quite a variety of cuts.  You have very low cut backs that dip so far down it’s possible to count every vertebra. Some of the unitards have cutouts on the sides and others have lace-up backs. They also have fronts cut so low there’s no way the woman can lift her arms over head without everything popping out.

    But lifting one’s arms is something most of the women never need to do since 95% of their workout focuses on legs.  Probably, to pull off their unitards.  And boy, do they pull them off.  In addition to being sex bombs, I’m pretty sure every woman there is also a triathlete.  These women sport six packs and perky, round butts without any jiggle.

    I’m not exaggerating when I say every woman in the gym is hardcore.  Yesterday, I scanned the gym specifically looking for women who could stand to lose a pound or two.  I saw maybe four.  Everyone else looked like an athlete and this includes the grandmothers in the room.  One woman, who could not have been younger than 60, followed me on the squat press and upped my weight by 40kgs. A very humbling moment.

    I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little intimidated by the overt sexiness of the women.  The women are sleek, styled and fit. I’m in baggy shorts with my ponytail askew.  In the end though, I’ll take a ponytail over sweaty hair clinging to my back.  For me, comfort trumps fashion but I will take a cue from their commitment.  These women, of all ages, have made exercise an integral part of their lifestyle.  That, unlike unitards, is something worth imitating.

  • My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part II: Results

    My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part II: Results

    In a dazzling, welcome and somewhat out of character for Brazil, display of efficiency, the results of our introductory physical evaluation were sent by email the evening of the exam.  Having run on a treadmill wearing a mask most commonly seen on fighter pilots, I was expecting the results to be somewhat technical.  The myriad of pie charts and bar graphs didn’t disappoint.  My husband and I met with a trainer the next morning to have our results explained.

    I was all set to hear a trainer explain my good results and tell me I had passed my evaluation with flying colors.  I’m certainly no Olympian but I’ve been going to the gym pretty regularly and I watch what I eat.  I anticipated good results.

    A red-shirted trainer pulled up my results on a computer in weight room.  He took a second to skim the brightly colored charts.

    “Ok, your goal is to drop your body fat percentage by 4%.  You also need to increase your percentage of lean body mass.  Your right shoulder hangs slightly lower than your left which makes your pelvis tilt up on your left side. We’re going to have to work on that. You really need to improve your cardio.  The evaluator recommends at least 30 minutes on the treadmill a few times a week.  We’ll give you some ab exercises to reduce your waist circumference and of course we’ll concentrate heavily on your glutes and thighs.”

    I was waiting for him to tell me I had a brain tumor to go along with my fat, scoliosis, and weak heart. Then he scrolled farther down into the report, and my butt mugshots came into view.

    These were the most unflattering, complex-inducing, fat-roll highlighting pictures any human being has ever had taken. With the helpful grid on the wall behind me, I could measure just how far out my butt protruded from my body.  My profile shot provided a wonderful comparison between the horizontal extension of my butt and boobs, which, being under a sports bra, were non-existent according to the grid.

    Never once did he say to me “This is really good,” or “You’re doing great in this area.” I heard nothing except my current measurements and goals to work toward. By the end of the review I was convinced I had some serious work to do and guilty of assault every time I put on a bikini.

    What exactly were my results?  Currently, I weigh 62.8 kg (138.45 lbs) and my body fat percentage is 18.35.  My recommended goal is to reduce my body fat percentage to 14 and lose 2 kg (4.4lbs). To do this I will need to increase my lean body mass (muscle) by 1 kg.

    When the trainer gave me those numbers, I had no idea how they compared to other people.  I’m not a nutritionist or a doctor.  The trainer just told how much fat I should work on losing.  I was genuinely dismayed and believed I was in fact slightly over weight. Never once did he say “Wow, Brynn you’re actually in really great shape.”

    Which is exactly what I am!!  I am in awesome shape as  two hours worth of internet research told me.  Oh my god!  I realize I look like an ass for being upset about discovering I’m in good shape but the trainer really made me believe I NEEDED to loose the fat.  After visiting a dozen health sites, I learned that 14% body fat, my goal, is the lowest amount of fat an athletic woman my age should have. I need 12% body fat just for my organs to function well.

    Trainers, a word of advice.  If your client is already in good shape at the beginning of her training, lead with that!  Rather than say “Your goal is to lose 4% body fat,” say “4% body fat is all you can lose and still be healthy.”  It’s all in the presentation of the information.  As a trainer you have the power to make a person feel like she’s got a great body or like she’s that “before” picture in all the diet pill ads.

    Trust me, it’s not a hard sell to convince most women they need to lose weight.  It’s more difficult to convince most of us that we’re perfectly healthy and can afford to enjoy a side a french fries.

    Although, if the abundance of six packs and unitards is any indication, I bet most of the women at this gym haven’t eaten any kind of carb in the last decade.

    Up next…
    Part III: Dress Code

  • My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part I: Registration

    My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part I: Registration

    “Just tuck the heart rate monitor under your sports bra.  Just like that…good.  Now I’m going to put the mask on.  You let me know if it’s too tight.”  I nodded as she slipped the rubber mask over my nose and mouth and adjusted the straps behind my head.  “Ok, I’ll keep increasing the speed every minute.  You let me know when it gets uncomfortable.”

    When you’re running on a treadmill, with a rubber mask and hose on your face, things don’t become uncomfortable.  They start out that way and proceed to get worse.  Within, five minutes I was running flat out, sweating underneath my rubber muzzle and listening to the friendly blonde chat with my husband.  To top off the indignity, they were chatting about me while I’m inches away with a hose running from my face.

    I voluntarily submitted myself to all of it.  Of course, I hadn’t known what exactly was in store when my husband and I were told we had to do a physical evaluation before starting our new gym.  That’s right.  Every new member goes through a complete physical evaluation that is kept on file and used by the trainers to develop your personal fitness routine.  You can access it yourself from any of the gym’s computers if you’re feeling lazy and need to be reminded just what percentage of you is fat.

    The morning after filling out our paperwork and paying our fees, we returned to the gym and were led to a small, flourescent lit room where we met Marisa, trainer and our physical evaluator.  My husband graciously let me go first.  (He probably knew I was hoping to memorize whatever he did and slack off on understanding Marisa’s Portuguese.)

    The evaluation started with a series of questions.  “Do you drink two liters of water a day?”  (Does anybody?) “Do you smoke?”  “What medical problems run in your family?”  etc. Then, I took off my shoes and shirt, got weighed and measured.  Marisa didn’t just take my height.  She measured around my arms, legs, calves, waist, hips, ribs, everywhere.  Muscles flexed and relaxed.

    I knew this was serious data collection when the calipers came out.  Nothing brings you down like watching all of your body fat get pinched and recorded.  I also discovered that nothing gives you body issues like having your body evaluated.  I had thought I was in pretty good shape but I began to doubt it with every notation Marisa made.  The phrase ignorance is bliss flitted through my head more than once that morning.

    When Marisa finished cataloguing my fat, she asked me to stand against the wall, centered in front of a grid painted on it.  You know, similar to the one criminals stand in front of for mug shots.  Like the criminals I got my picture taken, front, left side, right side, and back, but unlike traditional mug shots my pictures cut my head completely out of the shot.  It was a mug shot of my butt.  Wanted: my ass for being disproportionately large.

    The exam finally ended with the aerobic test on the treadmill.  The mask measured my oxygen output in relation to my heart rate.  When I finished my husband went through the same process.  I feel pretty strongly we should now be cleared for astronaut training.

    Despite feeling slightly foolish while doing the tests, I am very glad I had the evaluation.  True, I became acutely aware of the places my body likes to store fat, I know that I’m a healthy weight with a healthy lifestyle.  Plus, isn’t knowing where the fat is stored the first step in getting rid of it?  That’s the whole point, obviously, of doing the physical evaluation.  The trainer knows exactly what areas you need to maintain and what you need to improve.  A personal fitness plan.

    Or at least that’s how I felt until I saw the mug shots.

    Up next…
    Part II: The Results

  • Winter Fashion in Rio de Janeiro

    Winter Fashion in Rio de Janeiro

    It’s 73 degrees and partly cloudy in Rio.  Lows are around 63 and the sea breeze is decidedly nippy.  You know what that means?  Shake out the sweaters and get the mold off that leather coat.  It’s winter in Rio!

    Of course, this only applies if you’re a Carioca.  If you are from pretty much anywhere else (ok, anywhere outside of the tropics) you grab a light jacket to wear over your tank top or opt for a long-sleeve t-shirt (the sleeves of which will be pushed up for the entire day until the sun sets).  But if you are Carioca, you’ll wear enough layers to be comfortable in deep space.

    The Carioca reaction to cool weather is charming.  The temperature drops below 80 and store mannequins are clothed in knee-length coats and turtleneck sweaters.  A drizzly rain plus a temperature of 60 degrees requires scarves, gloves, and boots.  While the Carioca may dislike having to wear closed toed shoes, it does give her a chance to wear that beautiful leather coat she bought in Buenos Aires.

    I’ll admit the last two days have been chilly.  I brought a jean jacket with me to class last night, but even with the jacket, I seemed to be dressed for an entirely different climate than the office staff.   One assistant was wearing what appeared to be a wool sweater over a long-sleeved, button-up shirt.  The office manager was dressed in a black suit, with jacket buttoned, black stockings and pumps.  While I don’t know how they avoided heat exhaustion, they both looked killer.

    And that’s what I miss about winter.  The clothes.  I do not like cold weather and unless you’re in a Lifetime Christmas special, snow is simply a cold, wet mess.  I do, however, miss the clothes.  Turtle necks, long coats tied at the waist, gloves, lined slacks, boots, sweater vests, corduroy pants, jewel toned anything.  The human race appears so much more competent in winter attire.

    Would you want the guy in the speedo and tennis shoes holding the nuclear codes?  No.  Nothing says “We’re doomed!” like a speedo accessorized with gold chains and athletic footwear.

    I do love the weather in Rio.  The lack of freezing temperatures is one of the city’s greatest assets.  But I miss the sophistication of winter clothes.  And a speedo with a parka on top does not count.

  • Combatting Hypertension and Puritans

    Rio has a way of bringing out the Puritan in me.  I see a fourteen year-old girl in a thong and I’m thrown into what can only be described as a tizzy.  I turned into a flustered grandmother when handed a government sponsored condom upon arrival at the Carnaval parade.  My husband says not to be too hard on myself.  He says I’m just a product of my culture.

    I’d like to protest but he’s right.  Americans are so uptight about sex.  Brazilians seems to be more open about sex and the fact that people actually have it.  This open attitude is certainly embraced by the ministry of health as demonstrated by their carnaval themed condoms and a report they issued last week.

    A new study shows the rate of hypertension in Brazil has risen from 21.5% in 2006 to 24.4% of the population in 2009.  Hypertension is a problem the US and Brazil share but Brazil seems to be taking a slightly different approach to combatting the problem.

    As part of fighting hypertension, the health minister recommends, “besides eating five portions of fruits a day, you could try to have sex five times a day.”

    Take a minute and try to imagine an American cabinet member or any government official saying those words to the press.  If your head hasn’t exploded from trying to visualize something so inconceivable, move on to imagining the voices of the FOX news pundits.  And finally, picture the headline a week later announcing the resignation of this official.

    Here in Brazil, the newspaper article acknowledged the minister was joking and further quoted him seriously recommending, “dance, sex, a change in diet” and physical activity as ways to combat high blood pressure.  Then the article went on to discuss the report in greater detail.

    A government official recommends sex five times a day and the reporter focuses on hypertension statistics?  What is wrong with these people?

    As far as I know, the health minister still has his job and no reports have come in of children irrevocably damaged from hearing their government acknowledge that there are physical benefits from a healthy sex life.

    But before anyone starts applying for residency visas, a word of caution.  While Brazilians have fewer hang ups about sex, the country is far from being a bastion of liberal values.  If any daughters result from these hypertension treatments, good luck convincing their fathers to let them play soccer.  Soccer turns girls into lesbians.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me.  I’ve had french fries a few times this week and my husband is out of town.  I’ll just have to go to the gym.