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.