Pay It Forward

My upline coach sent me this nifty little bracelet she received at the Beachbody Coach Summit in Vegas.  Bright orange with equally bright blue letters that spell out "Commit to pay it forward."  It was sent to me because she was proud of me for bringing on another coach and taking that next step towards Emerald. 

And yes, from the outside, I can see how that may all sound a tad cheesy or silly.  But from where this ever-fitter gal sits, that sounds like goals accomplished and a bright shiny future.  And paying it forward is why I started coaching in the first place.  I found my passion - sharing a love of fitness and the knowledge that each one of us can do positively incredible things when we decide and commit. 

Not much more than two years ago, I was in a rut.  A smelly, unattractive, gluttonous rut.  I smoked close to two packs a day.  My food was generally breaded, fried, or smothered in gravy or icing.  Chances that I actually prepared my food were on the very low side.  I climbed the stairs and felt winded.  I watched the kids play while I puffed my PFunks and pondered where we would order from that night.  Our shelves were fully stocked with PopTarts, multi-colored cereals, and boxes of neon macaroni-and-cheese.  Okay - I've gotta stop now, because I wanna vomit.

My third pregnancy took care of the smoking, just as each pregnancy had done before.  I desperately wanted to remain a quitter this time - and I did.  I credit that late-night informercial moment when I first laid eyes on Chalene and TurboFire. 

That singular program was exactly what I needed.  Not only was it fun, not only did I find myself looking forward to that hour every day...It pushed me to fitness levels I never thought I'd reach.  Which in turn made me wonder what MORE I could do.  So when my niece challenged me to run a half marathon with her, despite not being a runner...I said yes.  And for the first time, I began training specifically for an event.  This lit a fire under me and was that fire ever HOT!

I started looking at my nutrition; I began signing up for other events.  I tried new and harder Beachbody programs.  I felt a confidence I had not felt...well, perhaps ever.  I took the plunge and purchased my coaching kit.  And whether you believe me or not, I did it more to pay that feeling forward than to line my wallet. 

What I did not expect was the immediate welcoming of the Beachbody community.  But these people are encouraging and happy and also on a path to share a passion for fitness.  They have had the same successes and the same epiphanies.  So my story is not unique here, which makes me love my new job even more.

But of course I want to be a successful coach.  I also have confidence that I WILL be a successful coach.  I decided to do it and I am committed to doing it...so I will succeed in doing it.  Two ways to further that goal?  Push my workouts harder and up my nutrition even more. 

Do you see the cycle?  Do you see how true fitness can affect every other part of your life?  I mean, seriously...look at me now.  Smoke free.  Down three sizes.  Cooking my own freakin' applesauce.  I shit you not.  I made my own applesauce.  And my own energy bars.  And a seriously fabulous Mexican lasagna.  All vegetarian, all made in my kitchen.  Know what else I did today?  Insanity Pure Cardio.  I killed that sucker.  And if I wanted to, I could take those stairs two at a time and not feel a thing. 

A dear friend from college thanked me today and left this quote on my Facebook profile:
"When the student is ready, the right teacher will appear. -" anonymous. She meant me.  And she's not the first, nor do I believe she is the last.  I am doing what I set out to do - spread the word.  Think of me as an evangelical fitness enthusiast.  The best part?  I am just as proud of her accomplishments as I am of my own.  I know how hard she's worked and I've seen how far she's come.  I feel lucky that she is making me a part of that. 

So life is good.  I've got some big dreams and bigger ideas to bring to fruition.  But they all stem from that commitment to paying it forward.  Some things just don't change.

1,000 Words...Or More...

You can stop pacing and biting those fingernails now.  I am finally posting more photos for my 30-Day Fit Photo Challenge!  That's right, you can breathe easy now.  The moment is here, my friend.



Day 12: Sweat

Now, where did I leave off?  I actually just had to go back and check...and HOLY CRAP!  I've got some major catching up to do!  The last you knew it was Day 11...you poor things!  You must've worried so about days 12 through 23.  Well, here you go.  A nice warm bowl of FitPhotos to start your day!

Day 12: Sweat! And boy, did I!  All the way through Plyometric Cardio Circuit, and all over my brand spankin' new Beachbody tshirt.  Decide, Commit, Succeed.  My mantra!



Day 13: Inspired By

Day 13: Inspired By.  I am inspired by Chalene Johnson, over and over and over again.  The woman is a teeny tiny powerhouse in all facets of life.  If you follow me at all, you are already aware of my extreme fitness crush on Chalene. She's strong, not skinny. She's motivating, not annoying. She's relentless, not obnoxious. Plus the woman has an incredible shoe collection.



Day 14: YUM!

Day 14: Yum! Shakeology.  Plain and simple.  I love the flavor, I love the way it makes my body feel, I love its convenience and versatility.  You should buy it.  Today.

Day 15: Got Muscle?

Day 15: Got Muscle?  Shit yeah, I do!  This is my "before" pic for the Let's Go Crazy! Insanity Challenge Group.  I am expecting bigger and better guns in the coming weeks, so be prepared for intense bragging and posturing.

Day 16: Love This Workout.  Did I really need to tell you?  I don't think so...


Day 16: Love This Workout



Day 17: On My Way

Day 17:  On My Way...Dug out an old "before" pic just for comparison's sake.  This was taken on  1/17 of this year. I don't even need to look at a present photo to know that I am indeed ON MY WAY. I could check the clothes I'm wearing - all smaller sizes. Or the donation bag I just tossed those pants in two days ago. Or the garbage can that sports bra went into a week ago. But like I said, no need. I know I am ON MY WAY.

Day 18: Fitness Friend. My fitness friend is the Hubster. He is my cheerleader and partner during training and events and my caretaker after. His support has given me the foundation and the room to come this far...and will push me to new levels in the future.

Day 19: My Reward.  MEDALS! RECOGNITION! BRAGGING RIGHTS! All good stuff.



Day 19: My Reward

Day 20: My Gym (for now)...I still have great visions of my garage-turned-gym-haven, but until then...this is where the magic happens.

Day 21: Abs.  They fluctuate, sure, but they're still miles better than this time last year.  Or even earlier this year...(Refer to Day 17)

Day 22:  Breakfast.  Another Shakeology shout-out.  My breakfast is the same 99% of the time - Shakeology and black coffee.  Suprisingly, I am totally cool with that.



Day 23: No Longer Need.  I have progressed beyond the five pounders and shrunken below the mediums.  And who needs a scale when you've got new clothes to prove your smaller, fitter size?  Gimme a tape measure and a bikini over a scale any day!  (Ironically, I actually weigh more now than I did at the start of this challenge, but I am smaller.  Must be all those new muscles.)

So there you have it!  Only a week left to go.  Wanna know what challenge I've got lined up for next month?  Go to my SweatItOut fan page on Facebook and find out!  Join us, even!  Because you too can be awesome.

Give A Hoot

You know I enjoy challenges, most particularly of the fitness variety.  I am also quite the Instagram addict.  This month, I am combining my two loves by completing a 30-day Fit Photo Challenge, which I first discovered via Chalene Johnson on Instagram. 

How can you participate, you ask?  Good thing for you, I am quite prepared to answer that question!  First, check out and save the picture right there up top.  As I began on July 1, the days of the challenge quite nicely correlate to the days of the month (because some people - not me, of course - can be quite scatterbrained and lose their place at times).  Then start posting your faboo pics on SweatItOut's Facebook page (link over there to your right), and voila!  You're knee deep in a new and fun challenge.  Even better - tell your friends and their friends that your pictures are up for the 'liking' and the pic with the most likes by July 31 wins a fantabulous fitness goodie basket.  Tell me again who your favorite blogger is...
Why am I doing it?  Well, because I find it motivates me and lately I've been requiring excessive motivation.  It makes me think about my workouts, my nutrition, my goals in ways that I, quite honestly, have not been doing as of late.  I have hit a bump in the road, a dry spell, fallen into a fitness funk, if you will.  This body is draggin' more than usual and I am pulling out all the stops to straighten it out.  So please - join me.  Motivate me.  Kick my virtual ass into gear.  Coffee, Shakeology, and E&E Formula can only do so much. 

Day 2: Healthy Lunch

Day 1: Before/Swimsuit Pic

So, Day 1 was the most challenging, at least for me.  And I am willing to bet for most of you readers.  Bathing suit and/or before pics always have strong embarassment potential.  But I find them to be highly motivating as well, because I am never satisfied with them.  Which translates to working harder on every aspect of my FitLife, including (Day 2: Healthy Lunch) my diet.

Day 3 was easy.  I work out nearly every day in some fashion, so I just had to post what that was (INSANITY, just in case you haven't been paying attention).

Day 3: Today's Workout

  Day 4 required more thought, as I typically don't pay much attention to the scale anymore.  I'm more about definition and the fit of my clothes.  But I do read a fair amount of women's fitness mags, which means I know what my goal looks like and what a woman my height and stature typically weighs when she looks that way.  So five pounds is my goal for this month; I'll tack on another five next month.


Day 4: Pounds I Will Lose

Day 5 was "Doing This For."  I have so many of those, but I chose the following: I do this for events (we all know how I feel about medals and bragging).  I do it so I can play with my kids and set an example for them.  I do it because it feels good.  I do it to look fabulous.  I do it for me.



Day 5: Doing This For

Day 6: Rest

Day 6: Rest.  I am not a good rester, in general.  I have explained in previous posts how it makes me feel guilty, though I quite understand my body requires it.  So to treat my body to the rest it so greatly deserves and to quiet those crazy thoughts, I add in light yoga or extended stretching on rest days.  Case closed, problem solved. 



Day 7: Fitness Gear

Day 7: Fitness Gear.  This month, that means surprisingly little.  For past programs, I had weights, weighted gloves, running shoes, fuel belts...This month, I've got my Insanity DVD's, my fitness magazines, and me.  And check out what that's done for my abs.  I anticipate I'll be cutting glass with those suckers by the end of my 60 days.  Don't be jealous.  There's still time to get crazy with my challenge group (with the added fun of trouncing Hubby's P90X group!).



Day 8: Healthy Treat

Day 8: Healthy Treat.  I love me some fruit salad (yummy, yummy - that's for all you parents of toddlers).  So tonight I layered it up with mango, pineapple, strawberries, and cantaloupe.  Woo, boy!  That was T-A-S-T-Y.
And pretty easy, challenge-wise.  I'll need to put more thought and creativity into tomorrow's picture (Day 9: Proud).  But those tend to be my favorites anyway.

So join me, won't you?  Consider this post your engraved invitation without any box to check for "cannot attend."  Help a sweaty sista out, friends.  Gimme that motivational push I seek. 
Ask not what SweatItOut can do for you, but what you can do for SweatItOut.  Read my lips: more new photos.  (New.  Not nude.  You guys and your dirty minds...)  There is nothing to fear but fat itself.  And many more inspirational and totally original motivational quotes, all of which mean the same basic thing: do what I tell you.  Take the pics.  Load 'em up.  Find me on Instagram (@miller343) and join me on Facebook, if you haven't already.  I am a hoot and a half, most days.  Some days, I'm even two or three hoots.  Maybe we can even restore me to a full 10 hoots if everyone rallies. 

In fact, I believe that is how the pictures shall be rated.  On a "hoot scale."  How many hoots are you?

Ghosts of Fitness Past

I'll admit, I'm a sucker for advertising.  I really ought to set parental controls for infomercials and start wearing those horse blinders through department stores.  Of course, I am forever grateful to the late-night ordering that led me to Beachbody, but there were many pitfalls and stops along the way.  Not all of them were unworthy, but none kept my interest piqued for quite so long.  Let's take a gander at my ghosts of fitness past, shall we?

My earliest workout memory involves shiny spandex and high ponytails and muscles of steel.  Before I stood before my mirror to tease my bangs, scrunch my permed hair, or tuck-and-roll my stonewashed jeans, I crunched and squeezed with Tamilee Webb.  I longed to have her flat little tummy and tight little tush.  Alas, our mornings together, though beginning with much gusto, became infrequent and eventually nonexistent.  We never had an official breakup; there was simply a time when I no longer loaded that VHS tape nor packed it for my move to college.

The same was true for my thighmaster (yes, I had one).  I saw that commercial and thought, "How easy! I can watch TV and let my eyes glaze over while I create the perfect thighs!"  Damn you, Chrissy Snow, for creating such high hopes.  I cannot imagine how many squeezes one must do each day to attain those slender thighs, but I do know it was far more than I ever did.  Another advertising dream dashed, I stuffed the thighmaster under my daybed with my cassette tapes, never to be used again.

Things improved slightly in college.  I gained a fitness buddy and we developed a slight obsession with Kathy Ireland and everything she hawked in KMart.  (Did I mention that said university was located in rural PA and KMart was the closest approximation to a mall in our vicinity?)  We hopped through grapevines, pulsed through leg raises, and reached through stretches.  Kathy travelled with me to my first post-college home, but when I discovered gym life and a DVD player, she no longer made the cut.  Although, now that she is selling furniture, I find myself wanting once again to buy from her.  I suppose those fond memories of awkward toe taps and low-budget filming will always leave me with a soft spot for her.

Around this time I also developed a keen interest in tae bo and Billy Blanks.  This is where I began to actually work out - that is, when I stopped doing low-key and every-now-and-then workouts and started putting in actual effort and regularity.  And, coincidentally, began seeing actual results from my dedication.  I barely made it through my first tae bo session; within months, I was teaching classes at my local gym and pushing people to work harder.  So, thank you, Mr. Blanks.  To this day, I still enjoy the occasional sweat with you.

More recently, I (along with the rest of America) became aware of Jillian Michaels.  I found her so compelling that I purchased her DVD's, her book, and a treadmill with her voice.  Through following the regimen in Making The Cut, both Hubby and I found relatively quick results.  Alas, the time spent on food prep and travelling to the gym cut too severely into our time with the kids and each other.  We looked fabulous.  But we were ex-haust-ed. 

So what to do?  P90X!  And then Chalene!  And then Shaun T!  Bliss!  Sweet, sweet torture.  We are home; we can get results with an hour or less a day; we can do it whenever suits us.  No class schedule or childcare required.  No sharing space, no other people's sweat, no waiting for class to start.  We press play and we're on our way.  This...this is my key to working out.  Yes, it's popular.  Yes, I found it through an infomercial.  However...this is no fad.  These are actual exercises that work.  Plus, they're FUN.  We are happy campers here at the M&M Estate.

So, once again, I advise you to figure out YOUR soulmate workout.  Do classes motivate you?  Do you like the face time with a live instructor?  Do you need to squeeze your workouts into an already crazy schedule?  Do you wanna dance/lift/kick/punch/stretch?  Ask yourself - what is the most fun I've ever had doing a physical activity (hey! perverts!)?  THAT is your soulmate workout.  Still unsure?  Contact me.  I'll tell you what to do.  Because I enjoy being bossy like that.

queenie3431@hotmail.com
https://www.facebook.com/#!/queensweat

The Word of the Year

The word of the year seems to be "motivation."  Who has it, who doesn't.  Who needs it, lost it, harnessed it, found it.  Without it, your ass is glued to the couch, the bed, the chair.  With it, your ass is shakin' to the beat of life.  So what's the secret, you ask?  How do I get me some of that, you wonder?  Well, come here...lean in close...

...I don't know.

Because it's different for everyone.  What worked for me may not work for you.  That doesn't mean I'm not going to go on and on and on about what worked for me.  Trust me, I will be babbling about what worked for me long after the cows come home from wherever they've been (and seriously, why are those cows always leaving home and where exactly are they going? Party animals.).  But you need to figure out what motivates you.  And, in my own personal experience, I find there are different sorts of motivation I require at different times.  So...I am, once again, about to extoll the virtues of what motivates me and how and when.  (That is why you stopped by, isn't it?)

Motivation Sort #1: What Gets Me Off My Inert Ass.  Before the sweating even starts, there's the battle of simply starting.  Which often times is the biggest battle of all.  Whether you're slidin' outta bed before the rooster even consideres crowing (hey, I live in rural PA.  Deal with the farm imagery.) or your workouts have to wait until...well, until the owls start hooting (sorry)...it's often that simple decision of lacing up your shoes, shrugging into that sports bra, pulling on those shorts.  There are different things that get my blood pumping.  Sometimes, the thought of the workout itself is enough.  I love flexing my new muscles and pushing my lungs to capacity...most of the time.  But - and I'm about to spill something top secret here - I'm HUMAN.  No, seriously.  There are moments when even I, the SweatItOut Queen, do not care to sweat it out at all.  I can blame fatigue, boredom, anemia, injury.  The fact is, when I don't wanna, it's mostly just that I don't wanna. 

That's when I gotta pull out the big guns.  (That's imagery that goes along with rural PA as well.)  See, now my hobby is my business.  Those five extra pounds could be five less orders, five less clients.  This often keeps me in line late at night when the rest of my household companions are snoring peacefully (and quite loudly, thus my wakefulness) and I find my tastebuds hankering for something coated in either chocolate or breading.  Anyway - I digress.  I am motivated by my strong desire for my business to succeed.  There's one way to get my rear in gear.

Other ways include sipping on E&E Formula (takes me from negative energy to SURPLUS ENTHUSIASM in ten minutes or less), watching Insanity or TurboFire infomercials, perusing Pinterest for motivational pictures of fit bodies.  Anything to remind me of how I'm gonna feel when I'm all done.  Which is not guilty, not regretful, not tired.  Sweat instills the exact opposite of those feelings in me. 

So I got started.  What more does one need, you may ask.  Let me tell you!  You need Motivation Sort #2: What Keeps My Ass Moving.  Because sometimes, you may have the get-up-n-go to start but not the drive to finish.  Some workouts just plain BITE IT. You know the ones.  The programs you started with the best of intentions and the highest levels of excitement only to shove them guiltily into a darkened corner so as not to be reminded of their existence.  For me, it was spinning.  Now, I have friends who ADORE spinning and I am incredibly happy they have discovered their soul mate workout.  I bought my padded shorts.  I shuffled into class faithfully...for about three weeks.  Not for me.  Turns out MY soul mate workout was TurboFire (I may have mentioned this once or twice).  I find Chalene Johnson to be highly motivating at EXACTLY the points I require her to be so.  When she yells, "YOU'RE NOT TIRED!" at the moment I am ready to toss my weighted gloves aside...well...I find I am NOT TIRED.  I believe her.  And that little mantra, in her voice, clicks in my head during some hard runs as well.  So to sum up this point: FIND YOUR SOULMATE WORKOUT.  Not only will it resolve Sort #2, it may even resolve Sort #1.

And then, of course, there is Motivation Sort #3: What Makes Me Do It Again.  And Again.  And Again.  And...well, you get the picture.  If my soul mate workout begins to feel stagnant (which can happen from time to time; thankfully, we always reconnect enthusiastically), I have other programs I love nearly as much - HipHop Abs, P90X, yoga, RUNNING, QiDANCE, step, ChaLEAN Extreme.  I also have the reminders of my upcoming events.  Can't brag if I don't do 'em.  Can't do 'em if I don't train.  I like to brag.  A LOT.  So that's a preeeettty big motivator, right there.  I enjoy looking at photos of myself from events and seeing how much fitter I am than I was at my previous event.  Makes me feel kinda good about me. 

And now, I have this Challenge Group.  They make it all fun and stuff.  Their daily photos and their incredible support of each other (though most of them have never met) is highly motivating.  We are only on the fourth day, and I'm already dreading Day 30 when I turn them loose.  Which is why I need to get my fix with another group.  I have become a Challenge junkie.

These are just some of the things that work for me.  When you stop back, you'll hear them again, but they'll be sprinkled with other ways I trick myself.  I can only take you so far...you know, you can lead a horse to water (thought I was done with the animals, didn't ya?)...but you can't make him put on running shoes and sprint around the track.  Find your WHY.  Polish it up, make it all shiney, give it a spot on the mantle.  Then get to sweatin'.

Girl Crush

Today was the first day in a looooong ass time that I worked out without the marathon looming over me.  I trained simply to train; sweat just to sweat; killed it because I still kick ass.  I blasted through Fire 30 and Burn Circuit 1 and have plans to run through some QiDANCE practice before the ever-energetic babe wakes from his nap.  I am officially declaring this week Workout Because I Love It Week.  Not very catchy, but deal with it. 

Post TurboFire...actual sweat, actual abs.

I was so focused on the race that I think I lost a teeny bit of my bounce.  Now, I lovelovelove running and I lovelovelove having a day that's all about being proud of me.  But I also harbor some deep feelings for Chalene and the way she makes me sweat.  Maybe Throwback Week would be better.  Because every time I press play for TurboFire, I can't help but be reminded of that long ago first workout when I thought I just might die before I finished (and upon finishing, when I realized I couldn't wait to do it again).  THIS is the program that made me fall in love with training again.  THIS is the program I gush about, and have gushed about even before I became a Beachbody Coach.  Because THIS is the program that stole my baby weight and readied me for my first half marathon (even before I was challenged to run it).  THIS is the program that restored my confidence in my body and took it to higher levels of fitness than any I'd reached before.  THIS is the program that made me believe I could tackle any class, any event, any challenge.  THIS is the program that helped me reclaim me.

See, there's this strange thing that happens postpartum.  Your focus shifts, as it ought, to the precious and beautiful babe who needs all things from you.  It's an overwhelming force, this whole Mom thing, and one that can swallow you whole if you allow it.  I had reached that point - that constantly tired, constantly distracted, constantly waiting for my cue - that I had reached twice before with my older lovelies.  I avoided spending too much time in front of the mirror (which should have aroused my concern for myself much sooner) and favored stretch pants and long sweatshirts over skinny jeans and fitted tops.  Luckily, there came that bright shining moment when I was just done with it.  I could continue to be a whining mass of blob-ness, complaining about my shape and exhaustion, depressed over choosing clothes every day...or I could change.  Change sounded much more fun.

And for once, my unwavering belief in all things infomercial worked in my favor.  I am not (totally) ashamed to admit that I am a sucker for advertising, especially when put forth in such a "newsy" and "factual" manner.  And TurboFire appealed to everything I'm a sucker for: lose weight fast, look pretty, and as an end result, be kind of bad ass.  I HAD TO HAVE IT.

And thus began my love affair with Chalene.  I dropped ten pounds and two sizes in my first round of TurboFire.  I remember my once-fitted yoga pants sliding off mid-tuck jump.  I nearly cried that day, I was so freakin' proud of myself.  The funny part was, my goals had already changed.  I had signed up for that half marathon and was already contemplating mud races.  I wanted muscles.  I wanted to do pushups on my toes.  I had to order ChaLEAN Extreme. 

And that worked too.  I found biceps, triceps, and an actual ass.  Turned out I was stronger than I ever believed possible.  I became even more kickass.  So I bought Push, Chalene's NY Times bestselling life coaching book.  I learned not only how to set goals, I learned exactly how to attain them.  My three main goals for this year are already done; it's only MAY.  So I have to pick new ones.

There's always a catalyst, an inspiration any time you change your life.  I can honestly say that an infomercial was my catalyst, and a woman I have never met was (and continues to be) my inspiration.  The thing I find happening more often, though, is this: I am my own catalyst and my own inspiration.  When I wake up every day, I am the one pulling on my sneakers and shrugging into sportsbras.  I am the one scheduling sweat time into my day.  I press play and I throw myself into every workout. 

So, if I can do it...it kind of makes you think, doesn't it...?

I Got To Keep On Movin'

Okay.  Run for the Red is ten days away.  I am still injury free, despite my cats' attempts to do me in via a stairway fall and the babe's fascination with rolling Matchbox cars my way during TurboFire.  But then, two days ago, my iPhone fell in the toilet.  (Clean bowl, thank the heavens.)  All was good - except the volume.  No sound.  A minor wrinkle, to be sure, but enough of a wrinkle to start those sneakered butterflies running laps around my belly.  For no volume = no music for 26.2 miles.  No volume = no voice reminders for my intervals.  (Hey, we're all spoiled by technology, and the lady who gently reminds me of my time has become a close friend of mine.)  A wrinkle to be sure, but I could iron this one out (and iron it far better than any shirt unlucky enough to meet my ironing board).  As of today, I am the proud and excited owner of the iPhone 4s and I have a new lady in my life.  So, see?  Crisis averted.

Oh, but wait!  Those ten miles I was scheduled to run this afternoon?  The ones Hubby and I planned our schedules around to be sure they weren't missed?  They're gonna be missed.  Apparently the engineers in Jersey did not get my training memo and Hubby has received extra work at the office.  Seriously?  Don't these people know my race is but ten days away?  I briefly toyed with the idea of pawning the older children off via playdates at someone else's home, but that still leaves me with a teething babe.  It is doubtful he (or I) would make it through ten miles with a jogging stroller.  And Mother Nature is just rubbing salt in my wounds.  The first gorgeous day in a week and my running feet are trapped in crosstrainers.

That's right.  I laced up the Asics and popped in a DVD.  I may not be assured of the time I need to meet my planned mileage, but that doesn't mean I'm sprawled out in bed trying to figure out why every female my age or older is raving about Fifty Shades of Grey (I tried, ladies...but melodramatic softcore porn will never beat out Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter).  No.  I just finished forty-five minutes of Zumba (all that listening to QiDANCE lately had me in the mood to dance) and if need be, I'll log some extra TurboFire time today.  I'm still dreaming of a quick run, but Chalene always has my back if I can't get there. 

My point is this: Murphy's Law is real.  It does exist.  Life exists.  Every day problems creep out and worm their way into your plans.  This is the point when many say they don't have the time to work out.  Well, I haven't been training for six freakin' months to let life get in the way of my goals.  I can't run?  So what?  I can still train and get my heart racin' for the two hours I planned on those ten miles taking me.  Screw you, Murphy.  I got bigger fish to fry. 

I have been called stubborn, bullheaded, and other descriptive words I choose not to share.  I'll take that.  If I wasn't, I wouldn't be meeting goals left, right, and straight on.  I'd still be in the same old rut, dreaming of being fit and wishing I had race medals hanging on my walls.  I wouldn't be sharing my love of fitness with everyone I meet (and some I haven't) or helping others get started meeting their own goals.  So, yes...I am stubborn.  I refuse to let life's annoyances interfere with my to-do list.  It's like the Bear Hunt song my kids used to sing in preschool...Can't go over it, can't go under it...You gotta go through it.  It's really the only way (plus, it's the most fun way too).

(And PS...it's this bitch got it done for six months...and now this bitch has that leopard bikini...:)  BOO. YAH.)



Filling My Plate

Hey, how ya been? What's new? How's the family?  It's been too long! 

So, you may have noticed (or you may not have, but let's pretend you've been biting your nails with worry) that I haven't been posting for a few days.  The reasons are GOOD.  This fitness-lovin' gal has been busier than the proverbial bee.  I woke up to seven emails this morning, each one related to fitness and my Push goals for this year.  Now THAT is what I am talkin' ABOUT.

(Now, if you haven't been reading my posts or you've forgotten past entries, Push is a faboo book by Chalene Johnson.  If you are at a loss or wandering about in circles, this book is for you.  It's a map to squeezing the juice out of every. single. day.  Buy it.  Read it.  DO IT.) 

Anyway - my Push goals for the year included running marathons (the first is 12 days away!), contributing financially to my family (Beachbody coach), getting back into fitness as either a trainer or an instructor (I'll get to that in a moment!), and taking a vacation with Hubby sans kids (no true vacation planned yet, but we do have a full four days to ourselves at the end of this month).  It's all about the reverse engineering and planning out the daily steps to get the end result.  You're aware of my daily training, my weekly lengthy runs, my love of Beachbody.  And I'm about to make you aware of my need to teach.

In the years BC (Before Children), I was both a step aerobics instructor and a personal trainer.  I seriously loved my job.  I was paid to work out and share my love of fitness with others while they paid lots of attention to me.  Plus, there are mirrors literally EVERYWHERE in any gym, so I could pay lots of attention to me.  Everyone benefited.  I was an excellent and passionate trainer and instructor.  Clients were sad to see me go, but alas, I was moving back to my hometown and soon started baby production.  I didn't leave fitness behind, but I did turn my back on being the face of it for anyone aside from myself. 

Lucky you! Those days have passed!  Not only can you read my blog, follow me on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram - now I am available as a Trained QiDANCE Instructor!  I have my Foundation course under my belt and a meeting with a local aerboics studio on Friday to discuss gettin' this booty back to the front of the class.  ANOTHER GOAL is about to be knocked on its ass.  My awesomeness is beginning to amaze even me. 

Now you're likely excited and can't wait to sign up and work out with me, but I bet you're also thinking, "What the hell is QiDANCE?"  Um...it's awesome, too.  Think sexy dances, incredible music, and (as of Sunday) me as an instructor.  I love it for the same reasons I love TurboFire: it's a program that can be modified to the level of the participant, it's got serious booty movin' music, and it's incredibly FUN.  During the master class (about 1 hour long), I actually had such a kickass time that I was in shock when the end came.  No way that was an hour!  And now I have somewhere to put my enthusiasm!  I can physically interact with people!  WOOT!

And guess what?  When you reach one goal, you immediately feel not only capable but EXCITED to get to the next one.  Everything just starts falling into place.  Just this week, I have been contacted about Shakeology, TurboFire, ChaLEAN Extreme, and teaching classes.  I am still looking into that Exercise Science major.  And I'm researching various personal training certifications.  So I got that goin' for me.  Oh - and the bikini will be mine before the week is over.  That is some good stuff, right there.

What's on your plate this week?  Start a new program?  Eat more healthfully?  Read my blog and share it with your friends?  Tell me!  I wanna hear how fabulous you are, too!

Movers and Shakers

The rain.  The gray.  The chill.  It does not induce warm and fuzzy work out feelings in me.  It induces DVR, good book, and warm tea feelings.  What to do?  Race day is creeping closer and skipping scheduled training is not an option.  No matter how sweet and snuggly that napping babe in my bed looks to me. 

First step: mix up some E&E.  On my far-too-early-to-be-sane running mornings, when I can barely open my eyes, this is my go-to.  I sip as I watch the morning news and suddenly go from justifying why bed is better to MUSTRUNNOW.  And it works just as well on a rainy late morning, even if Bethenny Ever After is waiting on my queue.  I am sipping it now, and my fingers are racing to be done with the blog so I can get groovin' with Chalene and TurboFire. 

Second step: read my own freakin' blog.  It reminds me not only of why I am doing this, it makes me WANT to do this.  I seriously inspire myself.  Call it conceit if you want, but then I might call you jealous.  I think it's better when we all just choose to love me and sweat it out together. 

Third step:  PRESS PLAY.  Once I hear the Turbo music, my butt gets a mind of its own.  It starts shakin' and movin' to the beat, dragging my well-muscled arms along for the ride.  How did I live life before running and TurboFire???  I don't know how I went so long, but I know for sure I ain't goin' back!  Increased energy, drive, focus...It's all taking up residence on a permanent basis.  I bought TurboFire as a means to lose my baby weight.  Turns out it was a means to losing an unhealthy life and a catapault to an entirely new world.  I had no idea that THIS body could do THOSE moves and LOVE IT. 

Once I'm done, I may have more words of wisdom to offer you.  Or I may be too busy following TF up with a leg workout.  Probably the best thing for you to do is join me.  Grab some sweat bands. (Yes, I use them.  I don't care if I look like an 80's gym flashback.  This chick sweats like a pig.)  Grab some weighted gloves.  Grab two or three bottles of water (because I care about your hydration, and you should, too).  Meet me at the Beachbody gym and let's GET IT DONE.  (E&E makes me type in ALL CAPS too.)

You can be sore tomorrow, or you can be sorry tomorrow.  Every day, it's a choice.  You give me excuses, I stick my fingers in my ears and yell "BLAHBLAHBLAH."  I don't speak weenie.  I don't accept it from myself, and I know you're just as dedicated and strong as me. 

So drop and give me twenty.  (Or fifteen.  I can do fifteen pretty good ones.  Next week, we'll be up to twenty.)