Imitation...

They may not read my blog, check my numbers on the scale, or scrutinize this month's measurements, but there are four pairs of eyes following my progress and keeping track of my commitment more consistently than anyone else.  See that guy on the far left?  He comments on my "pumps" pretty frequently.  That one in the middle?  I am setting an example for her as a woman.  See the tallest one all the way to the right?  We talk running on a regular basis.  And that little guy...well, we're certain that one's a future football player/wrestler like his big brother.  They have all witnessed countless hours of me kicking, punching, and shaking my booty through TurboFire and HipHop Abs.  They even saw me struggling through a few sessions of P90X (long ago - I'm not struggling any longer ;))  And they always want to join in.  They want pumps, too, after all.  So, being the role model and incredibly fabulous mama that I am, I ordered "Tony and the Kids" for them.  Our deal is if they retain interest and do it often, they can also get Shaun T's DVD.  Just like Mom and Dad!

Last night we popped it in and those lil' sweat monkeys went right to work lunging, jumping, and stretching.  They did crunchy frogs, yoga poses, and wacky jacks (again, just like Mom and Dad!) right along with Tony, laughing the whole time (not always so much like Mom and Dad...).  I cannot express my joy at their joy.  Even the Rooster followed suit, reaching for the stars and then to the floor (even when the older three moved on to new moves).  It was half an hour of fun and fitness, and they were mighty proud of completing a workout with the great Tony Horton.  As they flexed for the camera and high-fived all the way around, commenting on the rough workout they'd just completed and wiping imaginary sweat from their brows, they made plans to do it again later in the week.  You know, to get in shape...like Mom and Dad...It's the sincerest form of flattery...

What the...?!?!

Okay, so I posted the photos...I can see the difference.  I can feel the difference.  But I made Hubby do my measurements because I just had to compare...and I actually gained inches and pounds.  So...how come?  And yes, that was meant to be read in a whiney, petulant, and quite immature manner, because that was my exact reaction.  How can I be further from the goals I set for myself when I have been working so diligently?  I made him remeasure for good measure.  I briefly considered that we may have a faulty tape measure.  I nearly became disheartened.  BUT...

When I began this journey, I maxed out at ten pushups on my knees.  And that was on a good day.  Now, I can bust out fifteen on my toes - and follow that set up with some military style, wide angle, decline, and divebomber pushups, still on my toes.  My five-pound weights are pretty dusty because they've haven't been touched in weeks.  I can run 14.5 miles and still play outside all afternoon with my kids.  I no longer strain to touch my toes, because instead, I am touching the floor during stretches.  Instead of modifying shorter cardio workouts, I'm busting out every move at the top of the class - TWICE A FREAKIN' DAY. 

So, my little pity party is over.  We don't pity the Awesome.  We are not sad for the Incredible.  And I'm pretty sure I'm both of those right now (I'm riding a pretty intense P90X Plyometrics high).  As I've said before, my goals, they are a-changin'.  Sometimes I just need to use my newly developed quads to deliver a swift kick into my own firm ass as a reminder.  The bikini will come, but the better stuff is coming first. 

On To The Next!

Before HipHop Abs

I've spent four sweaty weeks with Shaun T, carving out some long-hidden abdominal muscles.  I learned that even I, devoid as I am of dancing ability and rhythm, can "tuck, tone, and tighten" my way through a HipHop Abs workout and actually have a good time doing so.  (This is one time I am glad I can only see the upper 1/4 of me in my little wall mirror; I can pretend I'm groovin' and shakin' my booty to an actual beat and lookin' f-i-n-e while doing so.)

So will I use this program again? Abso-freakin-lutely! Coming off of TurboFire and using it in conjunction with P90X, I have to admit the beginning workouts weren't quite as intense as I was used to (although I was still dripping sweat by the end).  After the first week, I started replacing the other cardio workouts with the bonus DVD "Extreme Cardio" and that, my friends, was intense.  I think I caught the faintest glimmer of what Insanity will be like when I finally crack that egg.  The Total Body Burn made my total body burn.  And I actually began to see results within the first week (during which I also followed the jumpstart meal plan included with the package).  Overall, this program was well worth the money, but I do wish I had splurged and gotten the deluxe package with the extra DVDs (as I will be ordering them eventually anyway, when I return to this one).  I think I would have loved it even more had I done it before the more difficult Beachbody programs; it would make a great introduction the library.

After HipHop Abs/Before P90X Doubles

So...now that my fling with Shaun T is at a (temporary) end, who to turn to?  What's next???  Well, there's been another man making my heart race these past few months.  He's funny, fit, and never lets me down...I've decided I want to see more of him...I am moving on to P90X Doubles, baby!  I've been doing the Classic program with Hubby on a regular basis, but have decided to up the ante and follow the Doubles schedule for the next 90 days.  I expect big results (and a skyrocketing appetite - Wegmans, BEWARE!), so expect more "after" photos along my journey (this set is also serving as my "before" for the Doubles session).  You know I love my bragging rights, and I plan on bragging fewer modifications within the first 30 days...as in, I WILL be doing chin-ups correctly. 

So, as Tony says, "BRING IT!" (Oh, and Hubby? You'll be needing to bring it, too...at least once a day.  Mwah!)

The Garage Of My Dreams

Ideally, my favorite place to sweatitout is outdoors, just me and my Ghosts and my iPod.  Hours melt away and my head gets clear and I see a glimmer of just how far I've come in my training.  But what about those days I can't, for various reasons (children, weather, children, time, children), get out of the house?  Sadly, for now I am stuck in my living room, alongside a defunct treadmill (which I must remember to call about), a dilapidated card table serving as my computer desk, a pack-n-play filled with toddler distractions, and a recliner (the last remnant of our actual living room furniture).  It is, to put it mildly, not the most motivational area in which to work out.  I do have a mirror in which I can watch the upper 1/4 of myself complete exercises, and my determined stare is difficult to resist.  But still, I dream of a day when I (meaning: Hubby) turns our stuffed-to-the-gills-with-crap garage into a wide open space of workout mats, weight sets, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors to reflect my perfect form (hey, I have to assume it's perfect on the bottom 3/4 as well).

I can lose lots of workout minutes browsing Pinterest for home gym ideas.  I love the idea of old lockers for storage and wire baskets for pristine white towels with which to mop my sweat.  I envision a brand new set of Selecttech weights (replacing the mismatched sets purchased piecemeal from WalMart and Target over the years) anticipating my gloved hands.  They rest next to my working treadmill, complete with iFit and Jillian's voice telling me to "Step it up!"  Of course, I will have motivational posters plastered over every non-mirrored inch of wall space to remind me of what I'm working toward, those well-muscled, glistening bodies of fit persons flexed next to all-caps phrases refuting any and all excuses.  Out my window, I'll see my Olympic sized swimming pool and running track...Okay, I may have to give those up for a plastic wading pool and the street, but the rest is completely doable! 

Not only would I finally have access to SPACE allowing me to go all out all the time, I would have access to SPACE AWAY FROM THE CHILDREN.  I love them, I really really do...but they have this habit of not needing me until they catch me in the middle of a TurboFire Fire Drill or mid-crunchy Frog during Ab Ripper X.  The rule of "Don't ask Mommy questions while Mommy is working out unless they relate to your blood flow" never seems to quite sink into their adorable little heads.  They deem Dad unfit for settling fights over who must bathe first (it really doesn't matter which it is; they always want the opposite) or what the reading assignment is for bedtime (although it never changes).  Nor can Dad tell them where exactly to find their suddenly much desired Silly Putty, charm bracelet, or 3D glasses.  Only Mom can answer these riddles, and apparently, only in the midst of intense exercise.  Moments before I press play, I can say their names 100 times or tell them to complete their chores and receive no answer.  The moment I finish my cool down, they have no use for me.  It seems I am just as appealing to them as I am to myself during those sweaty breathless moments of P90X.  I suppose I can't really blame them, but still...I yearn for my own private garage-gym, paces away from the chaos of the mini M&M's.

Right now, I have forced the older boys into cleaning the aftermath of the hurricane that localized in their bedroom; my daughter lies in my bed with a cough and headache, quietly watching Sponge Bob; and the toddler is just about to go down for his own nap.  Whilst I have them all occupied, I plan to quietly slip into some spandex, mix up some E&E, and groove with Shaun T...until they catch me in my illicit activities...

I'm Not Tired!...*yawn*

I've got this workout thing down.  I have endurance, motivation, and a sincere love for all things endorphin-producing.  Alas, I am not as disciplined when it comes to the nutrition side of fitness.  And when I say "not as disciplined," I mean "not disciplined at all."  As in, both boxes of Samoas and both boxes of Thin Mints are G-O-N-E.  So is the Nutella.  And the leftover General Tso's (extra spicy!) with a side of pork fried rice.  Did I mention Hubby and I stopped at Hot Dog Johnny's yesterday?  Where I ate two Johnny Dogs and a bag of fries?  And proceeded to wonder why my body felt so incredibly awful.

Really, I was doing very well for a substantial amount of time.  I drink my Shakeology every morning and plan our meals and snacks very carefully.  Then came a stretch of days that had us away from home at mealtimes and so packed with errands and events that I had no time to hit up Wegmans.  And I relapsed into old ordering habits, each restaurant pulling me farther and farther down the slow and sluggish rabbit hole.  I started with Chic-Fil-A grilled chicken wraps and side salads (not so bad for a drive-thru order) and went all the way to bacon cheeseburgers (at our favorite diner) and the aforementioned General Tso's (from a not-worth-it takeout Chinese pit whose convenience is the only reason we use it).  I kept up with my two-a-days and long run schedule throughout this downward food spiral, so my calories were actually in check.  My nutrition, sadly, was not.

Two days ago, I found myself lacking in get-up-and-go.  I figured I'd take a rest day as I hadn't had a true "rest" in awhile.  Then yesterday, I continually ran into workout roadblocks: Hubby needed a ride to the eye doctor for a nasty case of pink eye; we had bank stops and office visits following the eye appointment; the babe required much tending to once we were home.  I was thinking ahead and planning an early bedtime for the kiddos so I could squeeze in my workouts before I hit the hay myself.  And then, THE WALL.  I hit it.  Hard. 

I told Hubby I wanted to lay down with the babe for a bit while he napped, figuring on a half hour rest.  I awoke two hours later, a sweaty, drooling mess with no more energy than I'd had before my sleep.  My limbs were leaden and my head heavy.  And I finally put all those puzzle pieces together: I needed my iron.

I have suffered from anemia since my teen years but can usually bypass iron supplements so long as I keep dark leafy greens and the occasional steak in my diet.  Not only had I let my nutrition slide, I was still exercising as though I hadn't.  Yes, calories were in check.  But my essential nutrients (and my iron) were not.  It finally clicked for me: if I want to train like an athlete and continue my workout schedule at the intensity I enjoy, I actually need to eat the way I train.  Brilliant!  Why hasn't anyone thought of this before?!? Oh, right...

It is so simple, and I have said it to others so many times.  I preach it to my children on a daily basis.  But I finally took a step back and figured I needed to apply it to myself.  Diet is not a four-letter word; it is a lifestyle.  It is something I need to follow if I expect my body to continue performing at the level I have become accustomed to.  So I'm back on the healthy food train, chugging right along.  My run today felt a little sluggish, but I got it done and recovered nicely and with enough energy to complete my Ab Sculpt and Kenpo X sessions I had scheduled for today.  And now, I am feeling a tad hungry (read: RAVENOUS) so I'm gonna head to my kitchen and pull out last night's leftovers (Beachbody's sweet pepper pork) and snack on some fresh strawberries and kiwi for dessert.  I swear I have learned my lesson this time! (Just please, don't put me anywhere near chocolate cake...)

Turn The Page

Hello.  My name is Jen and I am addicted to fitness magazines.  Specifically, women's fitness magazines.  Shape, Fitness, Women's Health, Runner's World (I know, guys can read this one too, but at my house, it's pretty much my very own porn), Self, Oxygen...I love the newness of the workouts, the athletic models with smiling faces (as opposed to those morose and angry models I find languishing about in my fashion mags), and the fresh recipes to be tried.  It's glossy motivation delivered right to my mailbox.  But magazines aren't the only reading materials that get my legs twitchin' and my feet jumpin'.  I love books, too! 

That's right - books.  On those much-needed rest days, I like to curl up with a new novel, but I also like to snack on lifestyle books.  Not diet books (anything that pronounces I won't need to exercise is automatically banished from my bedside table, as is any title that guarantees FLAT ABS FAST!).  I like to dive into the beefed up versions of my magazines, chapters filled with menu plans and intense workouts.  Here's a list of my favorites...

1.  Push by Chalene Johnson...A 30-day plan to get your butt in gear on every level, it also offers fitness direction and Chalene's "throw-and-go meals" for those of us too busy (or too disinclined) to spend much time in the kitchen.  She's just as motivational on paper as she is on DVD.  I actually found it difficult to limit myself to one chapter each day because I was so pumped to set and accomplish goals.  There's a good reason she made it the NY Times Bestseller list.  Seriously...make it your next goal to get this book.

2.  Making The Cut by Jillian Michaels...Another 30-day plan to get your posterior goin', but this one soley focused on the physical side of doing so.  Hubby and I started our combined fitness journey with this book back before I found myself in a delicate state (read: ballooning into a blubbering ball of hormones that ransacked not only the kitchen but the kids' party bags in search of KitKats).  The one caveat: you need a gym, either fully stocked with equipment at home or fully stocked with lines for equipment in public.  I still refer to this book on a pretty regular basis because the recipes are insanely delicious.  Even the older beasts enjoy them.

3.  Body Confidence by Mark MacDonald...Here we find a lifelong plan of eating and exercising according to your individual metabolic type.  I, like many women my age, have a slight obsession with Chelsea Handler, and this book was recommended on her show because she has used MacDonald as her very own nutritionist.  Basically, you learn how to load your plate no matter where you are, be it your humble abode or your local watering hole.  Also, he too offers recipes!  I love recipe sections despite hating to cook.  I figure as long as I have directions, I can accomplish what I need to accomplish.  And it's true...most of the time...

4.  Marathon: You Can Do It! by Jeff Galloway...He is the omnipotent power runners turn to in times of doubt.  Galloway offers easy-to-follow advice on distance running, avoiding/treating injuries, and (of course!) nutrition leading up to and following the Big Race Day.  I am currently reading this book, but it is the second training plan I've used from the Great Galloway (as he shall henceforth be known within the confines of this blog) and I gotta say, I really dig the guy's style.  Straightforward and so simple even a Queen could do it.  If you are contemplating adding some serious mileage, get this book FIRST and then register for a race based upon the program.  My only regret is that I didn't find this book five months ago.  (My only regret concerning this book...There are a few fashion choices made in the late 90's I'm not so proud of.)

So the next time it's raining and you want to slow it down and enjoy a nice little cuppa green tea, might I suggest flexing your brain muscles with one of the founts of knowledge listed above?  More information makes you a stronger athlete.  (Hey, if you're training for anything, consider yourself an athlete.)  Those PSA's from my youth were spot on: Knowledge is power.  It is also the key to your fitness success.  I have learned from experience that jumping too far without checking the ground below only leads to a face in the dirt (or, more literally, intense soreness and near-injury that can risk all of that hard work not meaning anything).  So, see?  Jocks and nerds really can get along!

Train Like A Girl

How many times growing up did we chickadees hear such insults as "You throw/run/play like a girl"?  Boys still say it as though it is a detriment, but our daughters know better.  They have mamas with muscles and endurance, six packs and stamina.  Our girls are growing up with an awareness that training like a girl takes commitment and guts.  Dads better step up their game if they wanna compete...

There is a new breed of mama out there, lifting heavy and training hard.  We run marathons and compete in mud races. We teach fitness classes and coach team sports.  We do not diet to get skinny.  We eat healthfully to be fit.  Our exercises require weights, performance shoes, and sweat-wicking materials.  We cannot get by with little white Keds and sweatpants.  We do not leave classes or training sessions with beautiful hair and intact makeup.  One of my favorite get-me-goin' quotes comes from Chalene Johnson during TurboFire: "You might come into my class lookin' cute, but you better not leave lookin' cute!"  In my case, I don't smell cute either...

Of course, there is always opposition.  If I hear one more insult directed at Madonna's well-muscled arms, I am gonna flex my own guns and release some tension.  Seriously.  The woman is beyond FIT!  And we're gonna chastise her for her strength?  We watched the Superbowl halftime show as a family and I made sure our kids knew how incredible her body is.  I pointed at those biceps in admiration. Too many times we hear comments about a woman appearing too masculine because she has definition.  I work hard and I want to see results.  My bi's and tri's are increasingly a source of pride for me, and my abs are following suit.  I refuse to hide my progress for fear of looking "too strong."  Puh-LEASE.  Boys (and sadly, some ladies), you are just gonna have to deal with the fact that women today are coming in all shapes, forms, and levels of fitness.  We flex, we run, we jump, we lift just as well (if not better) than you do.  And we do it for OUR OWN benefit.  I admit, I started out with goals of fitting into pre-baby jeans and regaining my previous posterior.  But now - that's an aside.  I push through P90X with the full intention of getting strong enough to make it through the workouts with ZERO modifications.  I wanna be like Dreya.  I wanna be like Madonna.  I wanna be STRONG.

I consistently praise my daughter for her increased strength and her determined work ethic in gymnastics.  The girl's got her own little guns to flex and her legs have some serious 7-year-old power.  I want her to know that's something to be proud of, not something to hide from the world.  And she's not the only kid hearing "girl power" from her mama.  I show off my progress to our boys, too.  In fact, the middle male is perhaps my biggest cheerleader.  He is regularly impressed with my efforts and results, commenting on my "pumps" (arm muscles) and lengthening runs.  I'm not aiming for a "girls are better" mentality, but more of a "girls are equal" lifestyle.  Where our Sis will be confident in her body's abilities and appearance and her brothers will appreciate a girl's curves and her muscle definition.  Because, let's face it, both are beautiful.

So, girls, let's go for one more pushup, situp, pullup...one more mile, rep, jump...Let's flex our muscles and train like WOMEN.  Because we can.

The Little Picture

Taking off into the fog

It was one of those mornings.  I was T-I-R-E-D.  And the M&M Clan had a B-U-S-Y day ahead of us.  Taking two to three hours to run seemed not only the exact opposite of what I felt like doing (shoving my head back under the pillows and flattening out my body under the covers so no one could find me), but it also could have put us in a severe time crunch (and I tend to get mildly cranky in times of severe time crunches.  As long as "mildly" is translated into "very."). However...my Type A brain was hyperaware that Run For The Red is a mere two months away and my training days are numbered.  Plus, I want a cute new running skirt to wear for my marathon, and I don't think I can convince Hubby I need one unless I actually run the marathon.  So, I channeled my inner Barney and suited up.

Now, I checked the temperature the old fashioned way - by looking out the window and then reading stats on my iPhone.  Foggy and 41.  That sounded like layering weather to me, but I have learned the overdressing lesson and the non-sexy-appeal of the roadside strip show.  So I figured sports bra and a light coat, topped with my ever-so-attractive neon vest so I would glow in the fog.  I even considered putting my hood up over my cap, my neck was so chilly...for the first two minutes.  I wasn't even ten minutes in before I ripped the coat off.  New lesson: global warming really is warm.  No more long sleeved layers until the fall (if we have one of those again). 

Geared up

So, for those first ten minutes, I was blaming my lack of enthusiasm on being overheated.  Coat off, I blamed it on a tough leg workout two days prior.  Then, on not getting enough sleep.  I found myriad reasons to turn around and go home, or better yet! Call Hubby to pick me up roadside like a free couch.  However...I realized for perhaps the first time ever that it would be easier to finish out than it would be to give up.  No one would have to know (besides the Clan that had watched me prepare my fuel belt and set mapmyrun) except me.  Guess what?  Apparently, I am enough for myself.  Go figure.

Rather than face a knowing stare in the mirror (and, Readers, I look in the mirror A LOT), I trekked on, still listing excuses as to why I shouldn't.  I knew by then that I wouldn't stop, but it helped pass the time during those three-minute running intervals.  This was one of those days when each minute seemed to drag out FOR-EV-ERRR, some of them beating my lungs into submission, others more focused on twisting my quadriceps into a pairing for peanut butter.  Regardless, I powered through the first forty-five minutes in misery.

I forced myself to focus on each minute rather than the full stretch of 14 miles I was scheduled to run.  Fourteen is a bunch of miles, if you want to get all technical about it.  That could be a daunting number.  Not quite as daunting as the 26.2 looming on the horizon, but it was intimidating enough for a Saturday.  And see, this was the real reason I was lacking in my usual excitement at long run day: don't tell anyone, but I am getting just the tiniest bit nervous about running that marathon.  Not enough to bag the idea, but enough that I lie awake counting 26.2 sheep, each of them in little Nike Frees sprinting over my head.  There is always the what if of it all and I am not good at contemplating the what if.  I am more of a who-needs-planning-when-you've-got-enthusiasm sort of gal and what if  has never been a close friend of mine.  So, the worry is there, in the deep recesses of my brain (but never fear - the shallow end is untouched and busy planning my race day outfit).  What I needed to do was break it down from The Big Picture to The Little Picture: minutes.  I can do anything for one minute, right?  It's pretty much true and it gets me through some fairly intense training.  Try it sometime.  Promise yourself you'll really hammer out one minute of tough cardio or lifting.  I bet you find that minute can get you pretty far.  And a minute is seriously less threatening than 14 miles.  If fourteen miles is a child-eating clown from Maine, a minute is the cute fluffy kitten of training increments.  Who doesn't love a kitten (besides the aforementioned clown)?  And my brain can focus for sixty seconds.  Maybe not for much longer, but one minute I can certainly handle.

Then, somewhere along the road, I found myself in what I cleverly call "the Zone." (Clever, right?  I'm full of unique catchphrases!) At some point, I had forgotten to keep track of interval times and lost half an hour in the depths of the Zone.  Know what?  I FELT GREAT!  Like, Tony the Tiger great!  I felt so great, in fact, that I continued running sans walking for the majority of my 14.5 mile run.  I not only entered the Zone, I made it my permanent address.  I relished the warm weather and the sudden strength in my legs.  I basked in the growing sunshine and the increased capacity of my lungs.  This...this moment...is why I run.  When my brain relaxes and my body just works.  When my every thought is so cheesey it ought to be poured over nachos (made from organic blue corn, without salt).  I love that I get to run the back roads where there is so little traffic most days I can forget where I am.  I adore that I have hills to run up and speed down, trees to shade me, and streams and rivers to sparkle in the sun.  This is the zen of running for me - when I can fully appreciate not just my healthy body but the gorgeous world surrounding it. 

Of course, eventually, I have to let it go.  Today, it was when non-locals felt the sweaty panting runner on the side of the road was the best person to get directions from.  (No lie.  They pulled their van right over and beeped at me despite the appearance of local businesses RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM.  Luckily, I am just newly local, so I could honestly be of no help to them.)  Still, although I left the zen behind, I was still in the Zone.  I ran farther than I ever had before, faster than I ever had before.  I ran 14.5 miles ten seconds faster than I ran my Rock N Roll Half Marathon.  And I felt FANTASTIC!  My usually sore knees were at least 75% less sore than usual (thanks to the glucosamine I started taking daily) and I was bouncing like a Bubba while I stripped off the fuel belt and vest.  Sleepy didn't set in until I was riding in a sunsoaked passenger seat and my belly was full. 

But even then I still had bragging rights.  I mean, come on.  I said the zen was a reason, not the only reason.

14.5, baby! BRING IT!

There's An App For That

Oh, iPhone! How I love thee! With you by my side, I am never alone.  We play games, share old memories and create new ones.  You gently remind me to keep at my to-do list and follow through on my goals each day.  How did I manage to live so long without you?

 

Say what you will about overuse of technology.  Tell me how annoyed you are by the person chatting away through the checkout line, oblivious to the eye rolls of those around her (hey! I will take grown-up conversations whenever I can get them, thank you very much).  My love of my smartphone does not abate.  We share so much, iPhone and me.  She has aided me on my fitness journey every step of the way, from calorie counting to marathon training.  No matter what sort of guidance I needed, I soon discovered that there was indeed an app for that.  Here are my favorites.

1.  mapmyrun - I have all of my running stats in one place.  Awesome.  Even more awesome?  I can track each run in real time, and hear voice feedback informing me of my current pace and time (which makes my interval training tres easy).  When I finish, I have instant access to my workout info, so I can see how speedy I've become since my last outing.  I can then post my route and stats to Facebook and Twitter so everyone else knows how speedy I've become, because I know they've been waiting on pins and needles to find out.  Well, they don't have to wait!  Here it is!  Thank you, mapmyrun!  Also, I can go online to find local routes to match my mileage for the day, set workout goals, and find other friends using the app so we can brag to each other about how badass we are.

2.  RunCoachPro - I have a tailored walk/run marathon training program, complete with crosstraining days and pace runs.  I have charts and graphs to track my increasingly incredible progress, which is kind of like my gold star (I think we should all still be receiving gold stars for jobs well done, but this will have to do).  I can change my goals at any point and receive an entirely new schedule as well, which is applied right to my calendar for my convenience.  Now I have reminders every day (as if I needed them, but still...it's nice).

3.  myfitnesspal - Although I am active enough now that I don't feel quite so calorie-conscious, I still find myself curious about how much I'm actually burning during a given workout.  I can plug in virtually any of my exercises and get a rough number of calories burned.  It's another gold star (they sure do rack up, don't they?!?) and I like telling Hubby the unfathomable caloric burning heights I reach.  I also find it useful when we're on the road and forced to eat at a chain (*shudder*), as I can simply enter the name of any given spot and view a list of meals and their nutritional information, thereby making better choices.  And again, friends can link up and monitor each other's progress or lack thereof, leaving congratulatory comments or gentle reminders ("WHERE THE  HELL HAVE YOU BEEN???? YOU HAVEN'T LOGGED IN FOR THREE FREAKIN' DAYS!!!) for each other.  It's all about a positive support system!

4.  P90X - a Beachbody app at last!  Like RunCoachPro, I give it my start date and it autoprograms my workout schedule for the remainder of the program.  I can track Fit Test results, nutrition, before&after photos, and measurements to monitor my ever-amazing progress.  (Really, it is amazing.  I can do pushups without my knees touching the floor.  Soon, I'll add the clapping and one-armed versions, too.  Stay tuned for increased bragging.)  Now, I'm just waiting on a TurboFire app to really get my juices flowing.

The only app that could kick these down a notch would be my very own app - instant SweatItOut and event updates combined with results and stats and in-your-face catchphrases to get me motivated.  I suppose Facebook will serve for now. *sigh*

No matter what your fitness goals may be, I can guarantee you they have an app for that.  I mean, there still isn't an app to remove excess calories from chocolate cake or make it stop tasting so delicious, but I'm certain someone, somewhere is working their little brain around that.  Until then, total avoidance will have to suffice.

The Accountability Department

I like fun workout words - sweat! jump! dance! run! push!  Action words, verbs, movers and shakers are what get me going.  Words like accountability don't typically enter my vocabulary unless I'm discussing household chores with my children (for the thousandth time today).  Accountability is a word dressed in an ill-fitting brown suit and mustard-colored necktie, maybe listening to Muzak or proofreading last year's reports on the price of generic toilet paper while lecturing me about buckling down and straightening up and flying right.  *YAWN*

But, accountability does make some good points.  Not much would get done without it.  Every organization needs a stickler to make things work, so make room in your otherwise good timin' brain for an accountability department.  You need that little voice to remind you why you're waking up at a time that is perfectly good for sleeping; why you, when everyone else is snuggling deeper into pillows and blankets, are lacing up your shoes to do those action words mentioned above.

As for myself, I have found I am getting pretty good at holding myself accountable.  I know when I'm making lame excuses ("the laundry needs folding," "I'd better check Facebook one more time," or "this needs eaten before it goes bad") and when I need to kick my own ass into gear.  I have also learned that the more I broadcast my intent, the more accountable I feel.  Failure only I know about is one thing; failure everyone can witness is quite another.  Now, I am sure not everyone in my social media world is keeping track of my workouts and nutrition, but I know for certain that a few people notice a few things.  That's enough for me.  I said I was going to do P90X and HipHop Abs and train for a marathon.  So that's what I'm doing.  I log onto my networks when I press play (and it's not just for bragging rights - that's what events are for).  It is my proof.  I said I was gonna, and I am. 

Even this blog holds me accountable.  One of my Push goals (side note: get yourself a copy of Chalene Johnson's Push and do what she says) was to write every day in order to keep track of my progress and just to get back to writing.  Now that people are actually beginning to read it, I know I need to keep putting it out there.  It is part of my routine now, just as exercising is.  See, the great thing about accountability is that it takes the decision out of the equation.  You set a goal and you accomplish it.  The Dwight Schrute of your brain will tell you what to do if you just follow along.  Before you know it, you don't even need accountability.  Working out and training become as much a part of your day as brushing your teeth, getting the kids off the bus, or taking the dogs outside.  It's no longer a struggle; it just is.

So who/what is your accountability?  Why haven't you broadcasted your goals to everyone you know?  I share each one with hundreds of people on a daily basis, even though I'm pretty sure the guy I used to go to kindergarten with doesn't really care that my pushups are coming along so nicely.  But - I can certainly pretend that each and every one of my online friends - from old classmates to friends of friends I've met only virtually - are anxiously awaiting my next account of fitness miraculousness.  And I can promise you this: if you let me in on your goals, I will be watching your every workout move and counting each bead of sweat.  In a totally noncreepy, nonstalkerish way...

Ask Not What Your Body Can Do For You...

Let's talk body image.  Because, let's face it, that's a core reason and motivator for more than a few of us.  How many times have you scrutinized your nearly or completely naked body in the mirror, pinching and pulling real or imagined flab?  Turning from one side to the other, sucking in, letting it all hang out, sucking in again and standing taller?  I feel pretty certain that I'm not the only one guilty of self-criticizing.  I also feel fairly safe in my assumption that I'm not the only one who has walked away from this situation with less than fond feelings for my body.  So, why do we do this to ourselves? 

I don't want to hear that society is to blame - though it is at least partly to fault.  We're all grown ups now, and somewhere along the road to adulthood, we've all picked up minds of our own.  At least, most of us have.  Now, it is our choice how we view ourselves and our decision what sort of bodies we will have.  I'm not saying we can all decide to have Heidi Klum's body (I bet she wants to keep it).  What I am saying is that we can have sit-on-the-couch-and-scarf-Cool-Ranch-Doritos bodies or sweat-it-out-and-flex-those-muscles bodies.  I've had both, and let me tell ya, I much prefer the latter. 

I know that no matter how hard or how much I work out, I will never be a size 2.  These hips were meant for birthing and they ain't goin' anywhere now that I've decided the birthing has stopped.  What I do know is that I can strengthen my muscles and condition my lungs so I can run faster, jump higher, and lift heavier.  I can make my heart pump more efficiently and keep myself around longer.  I can enter half marathons, full marathons, and mud races as often as I please and finish them!  Two years ago, I could not say that of this body, but oh, how the times have changed!

I was once a hard partyin' kinda gal, chainsmoking and binge eating my way through life, and my body had no qualms about reminding me of its abuse.  Stairs stole my breath and sometimes simply making it through a workday at a desk stole my energy.  I used to watch my kids play outside while I stole a quick P-Funk.  I ain't gonna lie; I cringe when I think about OldMe.  Just the smell of cigarettes makes me slightly nauseous now; I cannot begin to think what taking a puff would do.  Ugh...moving on...

Fast forward to now...me, smokefree for over two years and living a Fit Life for over one.  Stairs shmairs.  I still have days when I'm weary, but I can generally attribute that to needing iron (anemia is often a source of fatigue for me, but that's what leafy greens and steak are for).  And I believe we discussed what I do when I think I may be too tired to finish a workout...

Also, I refuse to be depressed about my size or shape anymore.  This body produced three amazing babies and this body allowed me to carry them in my arms and on my shoulders, bounce them on my knee, and push them on swings.  This body takes me on meditative hours-long runs and sweats through exhilirating Beachbody classes.  This body will be hauling me through a Spartan this summer and Tough Mudder the following summer.  This body will allow me my first real run on the beach during family vacation and help me coach my daughter's cheerleading squad in the fall.  I have found that the harder I push myself, the better my body responds, rewarding me with increased energy, stronger muscle, and lasting endurance. 

Plus - who do I want my daughter to grow into?  An insecure yet thin girl counting calories, bypassing experiences and tastes for fear of bloating?  Or a strong and fit champion counting victories and accomplishments, facing challenges head on?  I don't think I even need to share my answer. 

Now, I could have opted to simply cut calories and be thin.  After all, weight loss was my number one goal when I began this journey.  But thin is no longer the reward.  I want medals around my neck and quality moments in my life more than I want smaller clothing in my closet. 

Of course, I enjoy the side effect of looking totally fabulous as a result of these newfound goals.  But it's the icing on the cake, and anyone who knows me knows that I couldn't care less about the icing, but I'll take a great big ol' bite outta that cake.

Inspiration + Motivation = Perspiration

Inspiration plus motivation equals perspiration.  That's as close as my brain gets to a scientific fact some days.  We all have those days, don't we?  When even coffee the consistency of sludge can't shove our gears into place, let alone get the whole machine running.  When we run on autopilot and are forced to continually jumpstart our overworked brains just to make it through the first hour...and the second....and the other twenty-two...So.  How do we enter into any sort of training when dragging our feet Igor-style seems to be a much better solution?  For me, I try to remember all the reasons I'm motivated.  Kids.  Waistline.  Health.  Events.  But some days, they just don't cut it.  I can recite my motivations backwards and forwards, but when I do that they tend to lose their electrical current.  I need fresh and new to get me moving.  So, I get cheesey - and I look for slogans.

They are all over the place! Pinterest and Facebook are my favorite places to hunt them down, but I am sure there are plenty of slogan gamelands.  The less forgiving they are, the more I like 'em.  The more they resemble something Louis Gossett Jr. would shout in Richard Gere's face, the better!  On days like that, I need more than rote motivators.  I need someone kicking my ass into motion and screaming at me to keep it there.  Now, we all know that I am a stay-at-home mom whose biggest challenges tend to revolve around poop, be it baby or canine...but I like to imagine that if need be, I  could be more Sarah Connor circa Terminator 2 than June Cleaver circa anytime.  So in-your-face slogans usually work for me.  When I read them, I read them the way they're usually printed: IN ALL CAPS.  In my face and screaming at me, possibly adding "YOU MAGGOT!" at the end for good measure.  Today started as one of those days...with me shuffling about in my pj's, sipping Ginko tea to make me smarter while I recited Llama Llama Red Pajama as Jack flipped the pages.  Then, because I knew I had to do something, I plopped myself down in front of the computer and made my brain yell at me in cruel and disparaging ways.  I inspired myself all the way through an hour and a half of Shaun T and his deliciously amazing abs.  BOOYAH!

Which brings me to another inspirational startup I rely on - images of fit people.  I especially enjoy the transformation photos, when people not only get lean but incredibly tan and happy.  I'm thinking that before I post my "after" photos at the end of this month, I may need to get a good spray tan and whiten my teeth to make the contrast even more inspirational. (I wonder if I can convince Hubby that transformations such as mine also make oneself far more stylish...?)

 But you know what's even better than a total stranger's before-and-afters?  INFOMERCIALS! I can wake up to an informercial for a progam I already own and get completely ramped up about it all over again.  And then have trouble falling back to sleep because I quite literally can't wait to do the workout.  It happens pretty frequently - woken up by Hubby's deep gutteral snores and there's Chalene or Tony or Shaun T hawking their lifechanging programs.  Not only do they show me the B&A's, they show me clips of fabulous looking people actually doing the workouts!  It's like my new porn...gets my blood pumping and I'm tossing and turning waiting for a more appropriate time to turn on the tv and crank up the volume to TurboFire.  I'm sure somewhere there's a support group for junkies like me...but I bet it's got a finish line and nutritional supplements instead of a circle of chairs and free donuts...

The (Sweat) Trickle Down Effect

In case you haven't realized yet, fitness is something of a priority in my life.  I love it the way I used to love chocolate cake...well...like I still love chocolate cake (but only on occasion, I swear!).  I feel so passionately about living a Fit Life that I have chosen to share my overzealousness with all of you, Dear Readers, on a daily basis.  Well...if you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, I suppose I share on more of an hourly and sometimes minute-ly basis...but I warned you fair and square.  So imagine, if I'm so dedicated to bombarding you with my obsession, how much my darling little monkeys get to share with me.  How lucky are they?!?

Tony Horton is a household name.  My 6-year-old requested Shaun T's autograph when I went to his Insanity class last weekend.  I'm pretty sure my toddler's first phrase is going to be "You're not tired!" from watching so much TurboFire.  They inquire about Shakeology flavors.  My nearly 8-year-old has sworn off McDonald's because it makes her feel "yucky."  This pleases Mama immensely.

I can wish and wish I had started living a Fit Life so many years ago, but the fact is, I am living it now.  I am leading by example.  I share run times and training efforts with them on a regular basis (they pretend to find the nuances of minutes and miles enticing info) and they even join me from time to time.  Seriously - what's more adorable than itty bitty biceps being flexed or hearing that little determined voice tell me "I am gonna finish this thing"?  When my son sees me struggling, he cheers me on, telling me that my "pumps are getting bigger!" And in this case, pumps are good! They are my bi's and tri's, having been carved out from the layers of pregnancy flab I had previously carried in their place.

To my extreme joy, we ran/walked our first family 5k this past Thanksgiving, some of us glued and feathered (turkeys and Native Americans) and some of us buckled and in black (Pilgrims). My Mother's Day gift for the past two years has been a family entry in the Susan G. Komen 5k in Philadelphia followed by a trip to the zoo (as if we don't live in one already).  This year, it has been suggested that we may even run it together.  Be still my healthy heart!  Runners too! Brings a tear to a mother's eye... And this summer - oh! this summer!!!!  After Hubby and I finish our first Spartan, we'll be cheering till we're hoarse for our Junior Spartans as they navigate their first mud race.  The girl especially cannot wait to get dirty! 

Aside from random bouts of interest in my at-home workouts and scattered events, these monkeys are active all year long.  We have a cross country runner (<3), football player, gymnasts, wrestler, baseball player, wrestler, cheerleader...and in the past, we've had a dancer and bowlers.  The toddler just began his first foray into the sporting world with a gymnastics class.  The girl plans to try her hand at basketball next year and both boys have discussed martial arts.  Alas, there are only one mommy and one daddy to handle such voracious schedules, so we must limit them to one activity per season each.  And even that can squeeze the life out of some of Mama's workouts - but I am happy to sacrifice a little of my sweatin' time to encourage their Fitness Passions!  When I see my daughter execute a perfect reverse flip on the bar or watch our wrestler pin an opponent, I feel a pride even greater than the one I feel at a finish line.  Hard to believe, but some things eclipse even my ego. 



And during those rare days in between practices? Bowling.  Roller skating.  Biking.  Hiking.  Or even just the park.  Some of our best nights are spent playing Wii.  Dance Dance Revolution is a family favorite (though only our gal has any rhythm), but we can bowl a mean virtual game, too.  We are a family on the move and I plan on keeping it that way.  Fit kids are happy kids.  Just take a look at those cheesey grins...

Turning Mountains Into Molehills

Today's run was scheduled to be a short one - a mere eight miles at 3:1 intervals.  Perfect for a gorgeous nearly-spring day, as the local park is but nine miles away from our front door and I never mind tacking on a few extra steps.  So hubby mapped out a route along the back roads and we planned our rendevous.  He mentioned something about hills but I was still feeling cocky after my brush with Insanity last night.  Hills, shmills.  And then...I saw this...

I paused.  Long enough to swig my Energy&Endurance Formula, take this shot, and gather myself.  I set off on the downhill and averted my eyes from that intimidating uphill.  "You, my friend, are a Spartain-in-training! A P90X-er! This hill...really isn't that bad..."  I found I didn't need my own cheering to keep me going, because my previous training was handling that just fine and dandy, thank you.  And close up, that hill looked just like every other stretch of road I had ever run.  Funny how that works.

It wasn't the only hill I ran today.  But it was the biggest and scariest...before I started climbing it.  Like any fear, it got smaller and less fearsome the instant I tackled it.  So my short run was a hard run, but it turns out, I've got those covered backwards and forwards.  And I amazed myself yet again.

...and even had a little energy left to follow this guy around the park...

My little motivator :)

Entering the Asylum

If you've read my previous posts, you are aware that I am a bit of a Beachbody fanatic.  I shook my booty through 90 days of TurboFire and followed that up with a round of ChaLEAN Extreme. Now I'm gritting my teeth through P90X and groovin' to HipHop Abs.  But tonight I got a little insane with Shaun T live and in person, so I'm headed towards the Asylum very soon...

I must admit, I was feelin' a little cocky when I walked into the packed room at a local VFW, ready to sweat and flex my newfound muscles.  After all, I've been doing two-a-days for a little over a month and I'm training for a FREAKING MARATHON.  I am fitter than I have ever been.  How difficult could one hour be?  Ummm...pretty damn difficult.

I ripped off my shirt during the warm up.  Baby belly be damned, because I could not tolerate having that extra layer on.  Nor could I tolerate taking it easy and going at the class half-assed.  (For those of you who don't know me, I prefer the whole ass approach.)  My legs were sca-reeeeem-ing in the first ten minutes.  My arms started shaking at fifteen.  I can't even tell you what my abs were up to at the half-hour mark, because I had moved beyond pain to sheer determination. 

Baby belly be damned!

That was the hardest, sweatiest, most exhilirating hour of extreme fitness I've experienced in quite a while.  So...now I know what my next Beachbody shipment is going to be.  My arms were still in spasm state and my head was still floating in workout la-la land while I got an autograph for Bubba and a photo for me.  All I could concentrate on was when I could start Insanity at home.  Which means, hubby will be entering the Asylum with me, whether he wants to or not...muahahahahaha.  So please, pardon the upcoming overzealous posts once I start, because these endorphins tend to spin outta control...

Bubba with his autograph

Too ramped up to pose pretty

Excuses vs. Reality

I am willing to bet that you made a New Year's Resolution, and I am willing to bet that resolution had something to do with your health.  Maybe you had a specific number of pounds or inches to lose, a size you wanted to reach, a diet to change, or an exercise routine to begin.  My question to you is: HOW FAR HAVE YOU GOTTEN?

If you're like OldMe, not very far.  The shine dulled on those resolutions by mid-February, when the days are short and dark and cold.  There's always an excuse as to why fitness goals simply do not fit into your current lifestyle.  I know, because I used to cuddle those excuses like new puppies, and I made sure I showed them off the same way.  So people would know I wasn't weak and a quitter, just "unable."  (Picture me now, rolling my eyes and smirking at OldMe and her lazy ways.)

The number one excuse: "I don't have the time."  Do you have the time to be sick? Do you have extra years of life you just don't want to use? I didn't think so.  If you wait for the time to appear, it's never going to happen.  You MAKE the time, you don't find it.  I am a mother to four, one of whom is just over a year.  I do not work outside the home, but honey, you better believe I WORK in it.  My day does not stop until my head hits the pillow.  Working out has become my sanity saver, so I make time for it Every. Single. Day.  Whether it's before everyone wakes up or after they've gone to bed; whether I find a stolen hour during Sesame Street or during naptime; whether I am running alone or walking behind a stroller, I MAKE THE TIME.  My family is happier for it, because if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.  And I am happier for it, because I have more energy to devote to everyone else, more patience to give them, and more love to give myself.

Then there's the odd excuse of "I'm not fit enough to do a workout." Um...okay...How do you suppose you will get fit enough to exercise?  As far as I can tell, the only way to do so is to begin. Walk.  Lift.  Dance.  Stretch.  Build up.  Not everyone needs an "extreme" routine, but everyone needs a routine.  Fitness grows with you and your goals will too.  I started running last summer and found it a major accomplishment to complete two miles at a 3:2 interval.  Now, I'm a running goddess who considers two miles a warm up.  A year ago, a marathon seemed like too much and I wasn't remotely interested.  Now, I get butterflies in running shoes every time I contemplate May 20 (the date of my first marathon).  People change, fitness changes them.  Trust me on this one.

"Health food has no taste."  Then you're not doing it right.  Plain and simple.  I drink chocolate deliciousness every morning for breakfast - gluten free, made-from-whole foods, low-glycemic-index chocolate deliciousness!  Shakeology is the proof in the pudding - almost literally - that healthy does not equal tasteless.  And there are sooooo many recipes for tangy, spicey, tastey, tastebud-thrilling foods that I refuse to even speak of this excuse any further (see my photo of whole wheat cranberry scones above? There's your thousand words.)   Next topic!

"It's too expensive to buy healthy foods."  I actually agree, but that's life.  Plus, think of the cash saved on doctor's visits, OTC meds, and pounds of junk food that won't fill you up.  No lie, I drink one shake at breakfast, and my normally bottomless pit is sated for a good two to three hours.  I toss together a healthy snack, and I am satisfied again.  When I was noshing on candy bars, donuts, and Weis dessert bowls, I would garner one of two results.  I would either a) feel incredibly nauseous due to the overabundance of fats and sugars I had just inhaled or b) still be starving and thus inhale more fats and sugars until I felt so nauseous I had to stop.  A pleasant side effect to cutting out (mostly - I still stray from time to time, but find I don't enjoy it quite as much) the empty calories is that much of my daily irritation has been cut out as well.  My blood sugar no longer crests and plummets seemingly at will.  I don't need caffiene to stave off headaches.  Again, Mama is happier and that equals a happier M&M Clan.

Give me an excuse, and I will give you a reason it sucks.  Today's blog is about tough love, people.  I don't wanna hear why you can't; I wanna hear why you WILL.  Forget resolutions, forget life overhauls.  Make small changes every day.  You didn't turn into a lounging mass of sugar in a day.  I bet you've worked on it every day for years.  My own formation into starchy inactivity was a gradual but steady decline, just as my climb back to fitness has been.  Now, I'm firmly entrenched.  This gal ain't goin' back.  Been there, done that.  Hated it. 

What got me motivated? I was tired of being tired.  I was exhausted with negative self-image.  I was so over wasting energy envying every fit person passing by.  I could either continue down a path that was all wrong for me, or I could stop making pitiful excuses and choose a new direction.  I warned you: I am a born-again fitness enthusiast and I will be annoyingly chipper about it.  You can either be annoyed or become annoying.  (Psssst! It's a lot more fun on this side!)



The Rest Of It

      

Yes, it's true.  I very much enjoy kicking ass on a daily basis, sometimes powering through two or more workouts in a single day.  I am very awesome that way, but there are times when my body is not.  On those days, I suck it up and rest my weary muscles.

Resting does not mean I am curled in bed with a box from Chocolate Lab, watching Fashion Police and The Daily Show...necessarily.  There are days like that, too, but I feel I earn them because I spend so many of my days kicking ass.  In general, resting means I don't do a formal workout.  I (yawn) scour the house; I (yay!) strap the babe into a stroller and stroll; I (even better!) wander the mall and salivate over fashions I can't afford.  I'm still moving, just not at quite so an accelrated rate.  Sometimes (not as often as I should), I stretch or do calming yoga, which makes my brain happy, because it can then shut up about not working out.  Because, folks, let's face it: no matter how often or how hard I exercise, I always have a some whiney little guilt in the deep dark areas of my Type A brain when I take a full rest day.  I've learned to accept it and bitch slap it every now and then when it gets too loud, but it never completely leaves.  Like me, it's not a quitter.

I do enjoy soaking up a little extra reading time on rest days.  And yes, catching up on the DVR list.  And this summer, there will be hours spent lounging poolside...if the babe agrees to nap at any point...BUT...one day is enough for me.  I need to sweat.  I need to kick and punch and lift.  I need to get back to kicking ass.

My Goals, They Are A-Changin'...

My goal was to lose ten pounds.  Sounded attainable yet worthy.  Then the muscle started building and my focus shifted from pounds to inches.   Then I started noticing what those new muscles could do and that focus shifted again, this time to an amazing number of things.  How many pushups can I do? Situps? Reps? How many miles can I run? How quickly can I run them? Can I do TurboFire with weighted gloves? Can I do even one pullup? And will I be able to wear a bikini this summer? (I never said I lost complete sight of my shallow goals.)

The same change happened with my food intake.  I had been so focused on caloric intake that I had stopped enjoying any intake.  If it was within my range, there was no flavor.  If it left the range (and it often not only left the range but scaled the wall and travelled into another realm), I felt massive amounts of guilt, ruining any sense of enjoyment.  I went back to my recipe books, juggling the various meals to suit not just my own tastes, but my family's as well.  We began eating more healthfully, even trying new foods (to my immese gratification and nearly everyone else's chagrin).  I now look at labels for the nutrients foods offer vs. the calories they cost me.  We prepare meals at home, going out for dinner only as a special treat (which has the added benefit of saving our family of six beaucoup bucks).  This means there are no added sauces, butters, oils, or salts.  We know what we're putting into our bodies and our bodies are thanking us.  I believe my proudest moment came when my 7-year-old swore off McDonald's of her own accord, stating it made her feel ill to eat such junk.  I think that alone makes me a pretty successful mom.  And the end result of the increased attention to fitness for its own sake and healthful eating for its own sake?  Bye bye, inches!

The shift happened so gradually I nearly missed it.  Laundry began to pile on the scale.  The tape measure got misplaced.  I started counting reps and comparing run times.  I started buying organic and filling the fridge with produce.  I ate when I was hungry and stopped when I felt full.  The irony of it all is that I actually work harder and eat better when I'm not working for weight loss.  And because I'm working harder and eating better, I am losing more.  Yes, please, and thank you! 

So now I have more specific goals.  This year: complete a marathon, finish a Spartan, start swimming, and get certified as an instructor.  Next year: more marathons, Tough Mudder, triatholon, and teach classes.  Of course, the bikini is still on the list, it just sits a little lower (next to the mini skirt)...

Accessorizing: What's Hot This Year

No matter what workout you choose, you're gonna need "stuff." Even running, which I believe to be the simplest of all workouts in terms of equipment, requires the right shoes.  The right playlist.  And eventually, the right fuel belt.  Personally, I love the "stuff." Walking through a sporting goods store gives me butterflies.  Everywhere I look, I see fitness possibilities! Exercises I haven't tried! Clothing to showcase my new muscles! And shoes...oh! the shoes...

My favorite stuff varies from workout to workout.  I love my new Brooks Ghosts for running; my iPhone, with mapmyrun and my music to keep my legs pumping; my fuel belt for lip balm, Gu, and water. When I punch and kick my way through TurboFire, I have to wear my weighted gloves (sculpting those bi's and tri's while burning an unseemly number of calories) and Under Armour sportsbras (my girls are happiest in those).  P90X and ChaLEAN Extreme require weights, which require lifting gloves to keep my hands callous-free and make me look like a serious contender.  Yoga...I must have a mat in a pretty carrying case, yoga gloves and slippers so my sweaty extremities stay where I put them, and yoga pants to make my rear view extra appealing (solely for the hubby's benefit, I swear!).

Sometimes, the stuff can provide that extra motivation.  I want new stuff.  I want to wear new stuff and use new stuff.  I enjoy the purchasing of the stuff, the unwrapping of the stuff, the new smell emanating from the stuff.  If I don't actually exercise, the stuff seems a tad superfluous.  Plus, I like being able to say, "I need stuff."  It's a valid excuse to shop! I really do need new shoes, new sports bras, yoga pants, running skirts...and whatever else may catch my eye as I wander the brightly colored aisles inhaling the myriad scents of rubber and spandex. No guilt here.  Just a conscientious member of society, doing my part for the economy while I maintain my personal health.

Soooo...pick yourself a workout you love.  And make sure it requires some stuff, even if said stuff is just a bangin' new outfit you wear during said workout.  Sometimes the best smiles I get all day are the admiring ones I aim at my reflection during a particularly sweaty session of HipHop Abs.



When Jenny Met Running

You know you need to exercise.  Everyone is telling you.  Your neighbor.  Your doctor.  Your friends.  The crazy lady at Chic-Fil-A.  Maybe that last one is just me, but you get my point.  It's not brain surgery or rocket science.  It's a given.  The knowing is easy.  The starting can be just the teensiest bit difficult, and the sticking-with-it even harder (something akin to a root canal sans novacaine comes to mind).  BUT...I believe that if you have that much dislike for your workout, you're just doing the WRONG WORKOUT. 

I've done 'em all. I like most of 'em.  But I looooooove TurboFire and I downright LUST after running.  It just took me about twenty years to discover the first and appreciate the other.

Think of it like dating.  We learn as we grow...

 As a teen, I loved the big hair and bright colors on Buns of Steel.  I gritted my way through each agonizing minute, but my buns never reached the approximation of any sort of metal.  Because I only gritted my way for about a week.  Then in college, I experimented with jazzercise type videos (everyone experiments in college!) and even had a brief fling with running and lifting (my roommate did it and promised it would make me feel good).  After college, I got a job as a step aerobics instructor and personal trainer (I was inching closer, but the fit still wasn't quite right). 

About a year ago, I saw a TurboFire informercial during a middle-of-the-night newborn feeding.  I watched in awe as they shook booties, kicked high, and punched hard.  And those abs! I felt my own midsection and noted it was not the same as theirs.  But the announcer promised it COULD BE in just 90 DAYS.  I was desperate.  I handed over my husband's debit card faster than my newborn could fill a diaper.  And guess what? GREAT FREAKIN' PURCHASE! Because it changed my fitness life. 

And with this new level of cardio confidence, I took my own self to Providence, RI and ran a Rock N Roll half marathon just five months later.  BadASS. Now I became a runner.  I have previously described my love of running and all that entails, and I can pretty much promise I will refer to it again in the future.  (You don't just talk about your spouse once and forget 'em, do you?)

Soooo...my point (yes, I still have one) is this: I found the workouts I needed to make me WANT TO DO IT.  I nearly salivate when workout time approaches.  At various points throughout my day, you can catch me mid-chore with a faraway look in my eye, and I'm seriously contemplating my sweat schedule.  It's these dirty little daydreams that keep me revved up for the late-night rendevous with Mr. Horton and my hubby...We get (P90)X-rated six nights a week, baby!

Your workout is out there.  If you've started a program and found it wasn't for you, remember: there are lots of exercises in the gym.  Keep looking, put yourself out there.  A little yoga here, some HipHop Abs there.  Before you know it, you've got google eyes for your very own workout and the two of you are attached at the sneaker.



Economics, Fitness, and Healthy Diets: Why Can't We All Just Get Along???

I honestly enjoy the shopping part of grocery shopping.  I adore Wegmans with my whole healthy heart.  The gorgeous produce, the seemingly endless supply of organic and tastey options, the calm shoppers (there are certain superstores I am frightened to venture into).  I get excited to choose healthy meals and snacks for my family...and I cringe every time I come face to face with our total bill.  I've gotta admit, sometimes the produce does not look so gorgeous when I see its price tag.

But - I am also aware that eating this way will curb other costs.  We are happier when we eat well; we feel better when we eat well.  Less doctor's visits, less OTC medications, less restaurant tabs (and that is a biggie for a family of six).  I nearly choked when I first saw the price of Shakeology.  Then I realized, that's a meal a day for 30 days.  Four bucks a day.  Cut out Starbucks, cut out snacks filled with preservatives and unpronouncable ingredients...there's your four bucks.  Now, add in the value of increased energy, improved bodily function, and controlled cravings...I don't feel sticker shock now.  I feel like I made a wise and healthful choice for my body.  (And tastey!!! Refer to my earlier post...)

So, once my spending is vindicated, I need menus! I need recipes! I need children to eat what I make! The first two are easy...

I consider myself a hunter and gatherer of recipes, pulling from Making The Cut by Jillian Michaels, magazines (Fitness, Shape, and Runner's World are great resources), Push by Chalene Johnson, and Thin Kitchen Beachbody.  Sometimes, I'll just take an entire week's menu straight from a diet plan; sometimes I mix and match.  Starting tomorrow, I am following Shaun T's six-day slimdown in order to get myself geared up for his class next Saturday.  I will modify meals somewhat for the rest of the family...but they're still getting mostly organic and fully fit meals, whether they like it or not.

Which brings me to my third "need."  Kids learn from us, whether we like it or not.  The choices we provide them now are the habits they'll use later.  So while they would love for me to shove platefuls of processed chicken parts in front of them every night, they are also learning to get excited about fish, fresh veggies, and seasonal fruits.  Everyone must try at least one bite of everything, every meal, every day.  I was surprised to find that even our finickiest eater can appreciate most of what we serve.

And for those in-between times, we keep a "snack basket" as a go-to in the kitchen.  As soon as I get home from shopping, I separate all snacks into single-serving bags.  The same goes for anything I make (I actually MAKE STUFF now! In an oven and everything! Who knew?!) When they require a little nosh, they can grab whatever they like from the basket, and I know they're getting something nourishing for their little bodies.  I've also started (finally!) keeping a bowl of fresh fruit on the kitchen table.  Right where we can see it.  And guess what? No more rotten fruit in drawers in the fridge.  It all gets eaten.


What are your sneaky tricks? SHARE! And if you've found a great farmer's market or cheaper brand that tastes just like a brand name, SHARE! Our M&M Clan has come a long way in the food department, but I like knowing that things are just getting started...