Selling Point

What's life like after the Spartan Race, you ask?

Much the same. Awesome.

The SweatItOut Screamin' Spartans are already training for 2013.  I am on Day 3 of the Let's Get Crazy Insanity Challenge Group.  Hubby is on Day 3 of his P90X Challenge Group, Horton's Heroes.  I am setting up next month's Chalene Johnson Challenge Group.

And it's time to start training for the Runner's World Trifecta in October.

Why? Because I love it.  It makes me feel good, mentally and physically.  This is my raison d'etre.  Well, this and So You Think You Can Dance.  And only one of those will change when How I Met Your Mother comes back for another season.  I am fully entrenched and committed to this lifestyle.

Do you know that when I walk in my closet now, I no longer run my fingers over clothes that I wish I could wear?  Everything fits now.  There is no desperate search, no trying on and rejecting, no sweaty, tear-filled proclamation that "I have nothing to wear!"  (Shoes, slightly different.  Although I recently decided to not care what anyone else thought of my missing toenails.  I'm a runner and an athlete.  If you can pull your eyes away from these abs and biceps to look at my toes, have at it.)

I don't feel guilty when I eat the occasional treat anymore.  Even when it's more than occasional.  Because I know I'm going to kick my own ass in to a gear so high, not even a wedge of chocolate cake will have time to settle in.  Of course, my body typically craves fruits and veggies and fish now, so treats have changed. 

Last summer, I searched for board shorts and capris.  This summer, I found myself shopping amongst the "shortie shorts," as my daughter and I call them.  These quad muscles are too fierce to hide away.  I would be sad when fall comes if I didn't know that my newer, higher butt was going to look oustanding in some new jeans. 

Join me, won't you?  You know where to find me by now (Facebook, Team Beachbody, hotmail, twitter, linkedin...).  Challenge group or no challenge group, you still get me.  And there's my selling point. 

Friendly Competition

So it seems Hubby wants a little action.  (Outta the gutter, perverts!)  He is attempting to wrangle a few followers of his own by running a P90X challenge at the EXACT SAME TIME as my own Insanity (aka "Let's Get Crazy") challenge.  Hmmph.

Now, you all know I have a deep affection for Tony and his 90-day weight training program.  It was a certainly a nice way to get in shape...so that I could move on to a 60-day training program that requires absolutely no equipment whatsoever.  *battingeyelashes*smilingsweetly*  I will always be grateful to Mr. Horton for helping me to reach a point where I'm ready to tackle a program like Insanity.  And I'm sure, in the future, I may even return to P90X here and there, for I do enjoy the fine view it provides alongside a truly incredible upper body workout. 

It's just that right now, I need my space.  I'd like to see other instructors.  It's too soon in my fitness journey for me to be tied down to just one program.  I need the cardio of TurboFire, the booty work of Brazil Butt Lift, and the upper body strength training of P90X.  Turns out, I can get all three of those in one workout...and still enjoy the view. 

I consider these first two weeks "research."  Mainly because I am far too impatient to wait until the official start date of July 15, when my group will be taking the fit test, posting measurements and before pics, and generally being all excited to start the first workout on July 16.  But I will restart with them so we can all kick ass on the same schedule and relatively same diet plan. 

And by "kicking ass," I mean both our own and those of our opposing challenge group.  The gauntlet, my friends, has been thrown.  Who will yield better results?  (I'm suppressing a chuckle, because I already know the answer.)  Time will tell.  (snickersnortchuckle) 

As Tony says, BRING IT.  Things are about to get INSANE.

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

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.)

Let's Call It Re-Decision

So, yeah.  I've started a few workout programs in the past and not finished them.  And perhaps (in the past) this was due to laziness or boredom.  Maybe.  Now, however, I find I must change up because the program is not meeting my expectations.  As in, the sucka's too damn easy.

I figured P90X Doubles would work fabulously for me, as it is currently the only program I own that Hubby agrees to do with me (and we all want him to work out, right?).  Turns out, Cardio X ain't got nothin' on my girl Chalene and TurboFire.  So, I am creating my very own little hybrid of P90X Doubles and TurboFire and marathon training, tweaking the schedules from day to day to fit my needs.  At first, I felt like I was quitting, yet again.  But I caught myself.  I can't help that I have become this awesome and need more of achallenge than Tony offers with Cardio X.  Nor is it Mr. Horton's fault that I am such an insatiable cardio machine.  We can all get along, as I am not abandoning P90X completely - keeping the lifting sessions, Plyo, and (every now and again) Kenpo X.  But on those days when I'm not running and the schedule calls for some cardio - I am turning to Chalene and her booty-shakin' bad assedness.  (It's a word because I said so.)

I love returning to TF after time away.  Fire 55 EZ is my benchmark workout, allowing me to truly recognize how far I have come since I first started my Beachbody journey a little over a year ago.  The first time I attempted this particular workout, I thought I might die.  I struggled through, modifying any step I could modify and thanking the gods of modification for their offerings.  Now...ha.  Now, I wear weighted gloves (which are so worn out that the velcro keeps coming undone) and am contemplating moving up from 1 lb to 2 lbs.  Because now, those extra pounds don't feel so extra.  Yes, readers...I have guns.  And they are begging for more ammunition.  I don't modify anymore.  Instead, I impress myself and my children with my amazing tuck jumps, frog jumps, and air jacks.  I look forward to the one-minute fire drills, the incredibly fast-paced and lung crunching sections of each TF video.  I am also anticipating the delivery of my brand spankin' new TF workouts later this week on the Keep On Burnin' DVD.  More Chalene? More punches/kicks/shakes/squats/speedbags?  YES, PLEASE! 

And the marathon training continues as well, with early morning runs beginning this week as the sunrise is finally on my side.  This Saturday calls for twenty miles and lots o' planning for water and fuel and route changes.  I have never run quite so far, but I find I am not nervous.  I'm freakin' EXCITED.  Seeing how far I've progressed just pumps up my confidence and inflates my ego (if you can believe there was any more room for inflation). 

My next big challenge in my training?  Backing away from the cheesecake/chocolate/nutella/crescent rolls and immersing myself in Shakeology/veggies/fruits/proteins.  I need to start fueling my body for the more intense training.  Blah blah blah.  It's the hardest part of Fit Living for this food lovin' gal, but I know in my stomach of stomachs it must be done.  To hold myself accountable, be prepared for photos and menus on a daily basis.  I am vowing to share this journey as well, whether you find it interesting or not.  (For the record, if you don't care, keep your ennui to yourself.  I prefer to pretend everyone is watching.)

So - to recap - it's not indecision, it's re-dicision.  And I will be touting the blessings of Beachbody as I start new TF workouts and increase my shake consumption.  And I don't care if you don't care.  Happy Monday!

No, seriously - happy Monday!  I just kicked 55 minutes of TF ass and will be lifting with Tony and Hubby tonight (back and biceps and ab ripper X).  That's a pretty freakin' good day, endorphin-wise.  I double dog dare you to tell me otherwise.

Any Publicity Is Good Publicity

Maybe you set fitness goals for yourself on New Year's Eve.  Maybe you set them when the bikinis appeared on the racks at Target, taunting you as you strolled past in your fanny-covering sweater, venti caramel macchiato in hand.  The important thing is that you promised yourself fitness would be a part of your life from that moment on (and I know you made that promise because I have declared it so).  The thing is, if you only whisper that intent to yourself and if you only tell yourself when you're feeling not-so-confident, the likelihood of you actually attaining those goals is not-so-high.  I bet now you're wondering, "What should I do?"  Well, sit down and listen, little Readers.  I'm about to blow your mind...

Tell everyone. 

Shocking!  Sharing personal information?  With everyone?  Who would do that...?  I know what you're thinking, but I am not the only one.  We all do it.  Every day.  Some of us, every other minute.  Facebook, Twitter, Instagram...Words are no longer enough, now we must post pictures regularly.  (Which is also a FABULOUS IDEA.  Nothing is quite so motivating as sharing your before photos with people you haven't talked to since you were sixteen.) 

If you're reading this, chances are you've seen my Facebook/Twitter/Instagram posts on a pretty regular basis.  Now, I am perfectly aware that the multitudes I imagine following my every workout move are, in reality, more equivalent to a handful.  However...I know that the handful is watchful and this keeps me pressin' on.  I can't just back out now; I made a PUBLIC STATEMENT.  Actually, I've made a lot of public statements.  Marathon, Spartan Race, P90X Doubles...these are just a few that come to mind.  So now I'm training for that marathon, that Spartan, and every day, I'm doing P90X and contemplating my next round of goals. 

I don't care if everyone is tired of seeing my workout-related status updates.  I don't care if you don't want to see sweaty photos of my smiling face.  I will continue to post my goals and my progress.  (If you think I'm overdoing it with my training updates, just wait until I actually COMPLETE my goals...)  And I urge you to do the same.  Let everyone in your universe know what you're doing.  Not just online.  Talk about it the same way you talk about your kids/pets/jobs.  Just this week, I blabbed about my marathon training to my eye doctor.  I just felt he would want to know.  Same as the other parents in my and Jack's You&Me class Tuesday nights.  Or the cashier at Wegmans.  I announce it more frequently than I say my own name. 

Chances are, if you put it out there, not only will you feel more accountable, people will give you real encouragement.  I love my inbox messages and getting approached when I'm out and about by those who have read about my progress online.  And guess what?  My eye doctor really was interested and suggested supplements to help my joints.  This public declaration stuff really works.

I may even get a tshirt made up just in case I forget to tell the kids' bus driver or the waitress at the diner down the street.  I wouldn't want anyone to feel left out...

Quit Is A Four Letter Word

Motivation has been discussed many times over, but it bears another once over.  Because, boy, did I fight to find it today.  Pink eye didn't help matters.  Not so much because of the irritation/puss/inflamation, but because I just don't feel quite so badass in my glasses.  Plus, I was tired.  I was sore from yesterday's double session.  I missed my morning run and my shower.  (Don't stand too close...)  Whine whine whine, moan moan moan.  (I would add "blah blah blah," but for various reasons, it has been deemed a curse word here at the M&M Estate, so I'd better not say it.)

ANYWAY - I just didn't feel it tonight.  Actually, I didn't feel it at any point today.  Nor could I rely on my E&E to get me goin' as it was so close to bedtime (and I'm pretty sure they have somehow put Tony Horton's energy into powder form with that stuff).  But, I am also fully aware that I cannot tout the benefits of commitment if I myself am not committed (to a program, people.  The institution can wait another couple of years).  I will not gain the biceps, abs, or buns of steel if I don't put the time in.  So, I finally sent the kiddos to bed halfway through American Idol with the promise of putting in their votes and finishing up tomorrow, changed into my workout gear, and pressed play.  I made it all the way through P90X Shoulders & Arms and most of the way through Ab Ripper X (my legs stopped me, weary from that Plyo workout yesterday).  I sweated.  I guzzled my water.  I sweated some more.  (Hubby may insist that I also make up for that missed shower.)  So, how do I feel now?

Still tired.  Still unmotivated.  But a hell of lot less guilty.  I know that when my head hits the pillow, the only thing on my mind will be Stephen Colbert for the five minutes I manage to watch before I zonk out.  I will not be rethinking the rest of the week's workout schedule to make up what I've missed or searching for justifications as to why I missed it when I know I was perfectly capable of just doing it.  It wasn't my most enjoyable workout moment, but I did it.  My arms are drooping far below the keyboard as I type this and I barely remember my point...but I do remember that I accomplished the goal set for today and that brings me closer to the goal I have set for next month and this summer. 

So...my point...My point is this: If your only excuse is you're tired, that's not an excuse.  That's a cop out.  If your only excuse is you're not motivated, that's not an excuse either.  Motivated doesn't mean following through only when you're so pumped to work out that you can't stand still.  Motivated is pushing play, going to class, heading out for that run even when you don't want to do it.  The only person that can talk you out of your goal is YOU.

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...

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.

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...

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

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.



"Before" Photos - Because without them, you can't have the "After" photos...

There is a good reason you've decided to start working out, and chances are that reason is something you want to keep hidden, perhaps with baggy sweatpants and long butt-covering tops. So who in their right mind would take a "before" photo and actually share it with other people? Well, I have...and I swear, despite what you may have heard, I am reasonably sane.
Those "befores" can be great motivation. When shared, they are a commitment statement, an advertisement to your world that you are starting a new lifestyle. As for myself, I shudder at the thought that those would be the last anyone would see of my midriff. So I keep on pressing play, crunching and jumping six nights a week. I drink my Shakeology every day and monitor what goes into my body. And I know that soon (hopefully within the next few weeks), I will have the "afters" I'm proud to share (and I'll be busting out the belly-baring tops packed away since 1998. To hell with fashion when I've got actual abdominal muscles to showcase!).

And really, how can you brag about your progress if you don't have the proof? I want to point at my befores and say, "Can you believe that was me? I have come so far, it's incredible."
I also find more inspiration from seeing others' transformations, be it from P90X, TurboFire, or HipHop Abs. It pumps me up for my workouts and gives me fuel to keep pushing as hard as I must to get the results I lust after. So maybe, if I keep going, I can inspire someone else to start living a Fit Life and find the energy, passion, and exhiliration I have discovered in the last year.

So, suck it up, not in, and take disturbingly honest "befores." You'll be on your way to your awesome "afters" in no time!

Romance and P90X

Let me set the scene: the kids are in bed (hopefully dreaming), the dogs have been taken out (hopefully for the last time), and it's just me and the hubby, alone at last. Within ten minutes, we're both drenched in sweat and breathing heavily...with Tony Horton.

Get your mind out of the gutter! P90X is the new date night, six nights a week. Fitness is a priority in our house, and rather than make it one more block of time away from each other, we have decided to let it bring us closer together. When we're both eeking out one more diamond pushup or sweating through one more set of heavy pants, we share a common goal and experience. And, even better, it has changed our goals as a couple. This summer, we will be competing in our very first mud race together, showcasing our ripped biceps/triceps/deltoids/etc. Making the commitment together makes sticking to the commitment that much easier. One of us will always push the other to get started, and really, that's all it takes. Because if you can motivate yourself to start a workout session, you can certainly make it through to the end.

So yes...date night is different. Movies and cocktails have morphed to P90X and water breaks. But now we get six date nights a weeks as opposed to one a month, and we're also seeing much more gorgeous people...