No Excuses

As I sit here and shiver through a layer of salt and sweat, I cannot help but be reminded of just how incredible I am.  Today was Cardio Resistance - lots of power moves, lots of upper body work.  It may be hard for you to hear this, but...my upper body is not as strong as I would like.  I know.  I know.  It saddens me too.  But that's why we work on it!  Well, that's why I work on it and then you read about it later.  Weak muscles are not an excuse to stop; they are a reason to press on!

So when I began this program, I could not do a single moving pushup.  Rewind, and let me explain.  If you were to find me at any other point during my day and ask me to give you a good set of moving pushups, I could fairly easily do so.  But when Shaun T demands them at the end of Cardio Resistance, I am already spent from globe jumps, power squats, v-pushups, and the like.  My lil ol' shoulders are at failure.  So up until today, I was modifying with regular or (gag!) "girly" pushups.  Again, I know.  My head hangs in shame.  Or it would...if I hadn't actually DONE those moving pushups today.  It's okay...your applause is welcome here.  Clap away!

I did 'em.  I had to take breaks, but I did 'em.  And I followed with the ever dreaded floor sprints.  Normally, my shoulders and arms are so taxed by that point that I simply cannot hold my sweaty self up.  Normally, I modify by doing standing mountain climbers.  Normally, I am slightly disappointed in my weak upper body.  Today, I was not normal.  (Hahaha.  Shut it.)  Today, I am about to bust outta my sneakers with pride.  It's working!  It's paying off!  Rope Climb 2013, here I come!!!! I may just knock that damn bell OFF instead of ringing it when I reach the top. 

I feel good.  I can barely keep my hands from sliding off the keyboard and have no idea how I'm going to wash my hair, but I feel good.  I DID IT. 

Shake n' Bake, Baby

In case you are not aware, summer has begun.  The kiddos are home ALL. DAY. LONG.  The weather is HOT and HUMID.  Workout conditions are LESS THAN IDEAL.  Does that mean we don't work out?  Do we put our goals on the backburner?  Are we giving these questions any merit whatsoever?  I think not.

Myself, I love the heat.  I love the sun.  I love the being outside with minimal clothing.  However...running only happens when I drag my weary ass out of bed at 5 am (5:30 at the latest) or on the weekends - because Hubby is there to tend to all of our wee ones.  Seeing as how I plan to run my next marathon in September, I foresee the coffee pot percolating much earlier this week.  As for my non-run days...I am back to the ever-so-glamorous living room, navigating amongst the board books and myriad "guys."  Someday...someday...I will have my dream garage...

And when I say I love the heat...well, I love it when I'm basking next to the pool.  Okay, when I'm following the babe from one spot to the next around the pool.  But still.  I love the heat when we're playing with the dogs in the backyard or pushing swings at the park.  When I'm doing a HIIT workout followed by lifting...I am much more of an air-conditioned sort of gal.  I drop approximately 80,000 gallons of sweat (that's a conservative estimate) during any singular workout session.  I don't feel the need to take it up a notch by adding summer's warmth.  And I'm pretty sure anyone within an aromatic distance agrees.

So I may be bakin', but baby, I'm still shakin'.  I can't get out in the morning?  Then I wait till naptime.  I can't get that darn babe to sleep?  Then I wait till Hubby says, "Honey, I'm home!"  There are days I'm waiting until bedtime, but there are never days when I simply say, "I give up."  I removed those words from my vocabulary a long time ago, my friend.  And you should, too.

Heat, shmeat.  Time, shmime.  Too hot?  Go inside to the AC.  Don't have enough time?  That's crap and you know it.  You're never gonna find the time.  You have to make the time.  What is more important than your overall health?  Updating another status?  Pinning another photo?  Watching one more rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond?  (But hey, seriously...that's one freakin' funny show.)  You know how you schedule appointments, meetings, playdates?  Schedule your workout.  One hour of your day, tops.  Who can't carve out an extra hour?  Four kids.  Starting a business.  Returning to a career.  Still managing one to two hours 5 to 6 days a week.  You want to lay out your reasons for me?  Please do.  So I can tell you to shut it and get back to sweatin'.  Hate me now, thank me later. 

Now start shakin' and bakin', baby.  We got work to do!

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'.

Summa Time

First Daily Challenge: Push ups to failure

Let's talk about what excites me THIS week.  And what will be my fitness focus for the next 30 days.  I am heading up my first ever KickOffSummer Challenge, where not only am I overzealous and nagging, but everyone loves me for it!  That's my kinda group.

So what we're doing is this: getting fit.  Simple, right? Everyone can get fit. (Don't offer me any excuses.  I believe we've already covered just how I feel about excuses.) It is simple.  They decided. They've committed.  And now they're going to succeed. 

Every day, I am offering up strength moves, stretches, fit tips, mini challenges, snack suggestions, recipes...It's like a fitness smorgasboard with me as master chef.  HEAVEN.  If they complete the challenges, make the recipes, eat the snacks...they get points!  Gold stars, even!  (Well, it's all virtual, but I can say, "Hey! Great job! You get a gold star!" and they can get all happy and offer CHF's - Cyber High Fives - to the rest of the group.  Very motivating.)  And if they don't...well...I may have to get all drill sergeant-y on their asses.  Because my group is NOT for quitters.  (You're all listening, right?)

And already - SUCCESS!  We have total workout virgins all the way to workout...veterans...Anyway...we have all levels!  So there's lots of trading of ideas and advice and "this really worked for me."  Plus, those that recently started their ChaLEAN Extreme and P90X programs are already showing incredible progress.  Their pants are falling off, their arms are sore.  Stuff of beauty!  This is the sort of news that really gets my blood pumping these days.  And gets ME offa my bum and pressin' play.  I have heard it said that when a student surpasses the teacher, that is the teacher's greatest accomplishment.  Well, maybe when I'm 60 and I'm coaching a 20-year-old.  For now, I wanna be the alpha exerciser.  So I'm back to my routine FULL FORCE and joining in on all the mini challenges.  I may have to start charging for the gun show I got goin' on...

PLUS - I am that much MORE EXCITED about my NEXT challenge group beginning in July!  I'm lookin' to get insane in the membrane and crack that whip even harder.  Soooo...who's up for a CHALLENGE????  The weak need not apply...

MUAHAHAHAHAHA.

Legend...Hold the Dairy...

I talk a LOT about the exercise side of fitness.  It's my love, my passion, my addiction.  And yes, it gets me results.  It makes me stronger, faster, leaner...more irresistible.  Plus, it's fun.  I get to kick, punch, run, dance...and I typically only have to do so for one to two hours a day.  Which, I feel, is pretty easy.  The nutrition side of fitness...that side which glowers upon regular chocolate cake consumption and does not condone a daily intake of Funyuns...that is not so fun.  And, until recently, it was not even remotely easy for me.  Good thing I like challenges and being told it can't be done.

I was never what anyone would label "a healthy eater."  I was more likely to fall under the category of "eternal grazer" or "garbage disposal."  I ate massive amounts of food in single sittings with constant snacking energizing me between meals.  And I ate things like Weis dessert bowls (frequently enough that my coworkers began calling them "Jen Bowls"); king size Snickers bars; 20-piece McNuggets with three different sauces so my delicate pallette would not get bored.  We frequented the diner down the street so often that we had our own booth and the waitresses knew our "usuals." 

Then I started TurboFire and started dropping pounds and inches.  I was, to put it mildly, quite pleased.  I continued to drop when I picked up running, and I started gaining muscle when I began using ChaLEAN Extreme.  But that mid-section still looked suspiciously poochy, as though it might be carrying something.  And it was.  It was carrying Big Macs, taco pizza, everything fries, and too many desserts to name (but all containing chocolate).  I took a moment to be frustrated, to feel depressed, to pout and whine and stomp my feet regarding the unfairness of it all.  Then I turned to my favorite place for change: Beachbody. 

I wanted more results and I wanted them faster.  I ordered HipHop Abs, E&E Formula, and my first round of Shakeology.  I signed up for my personalized meal plan and started using myfitnesspal again.  I returned to Body Confidence by Mark McDonald. Things began happening. 

First, I fell in lust with Shaun T and in love with E&E.  Then I made a lifelong commitment to Shakeology, which led to a lifelong commitment to (mostly) clean eating.  Because here's the thing: I have that shake in the morning, and I find it ridiculously easy to maintain healthy eating for the remainder of the day.  My body gets what it needs, so minimal (if any) cravings follow.  For a girl that used to hide candy bars in the freezer so my kids wouldn't get them, who used to stock an entire file drawer at my desk with snacks ranging from funsize chocolate bars to entire boxes of cereal...that's kind of a big deal. 

Now here came the most kickass part of all the kickass-edness (yes, it's a word!): I had ab muscles under that pooch! And a waistline!  For the first time since junior high, I saw flat abs in my future.  I don't even have to flex.  They just pop out.  It's like every day, I'm more awesome.  It's hard to believe, right?  How does one so awesome continually find more room for awesome?  Barney Stinson ain't got nothin' on this girl.  Legend...

Speaking of dairy...Yeah.  I don't do that anymore, either.  At least, the occasions are few and far between.  I originally cut it out as part of the Body Confidence jump start plan, but found that not only did I not miss it, I felt better overall.  And after being dairy free for a few weeks, when I had a small glass of milk...Let's just say, things weren't the same between me and the white stuff anymore.  Which just makes decisions that much easier still.  Again with the awesome.

And again, my point behind all this rambling is THIS: if I, the bacon-loving, chocolate-cake-shoveling, fried-cheese-inhaling garbage disposal and former champion of all encased meats, can not only change my diet and garner control over my eating but am actually SATISFIED with my current intake...then so can you.  I don't wanna hear crap about healthy foods being too expensive.  I don't wanna hear "but my kids won't eat that."  I especially don't wanna hear "but that's too difficult."  I will slap that french fry right outta your mouth. 

Fact: eating right will extend your life.  It will extend your children's lives.  Less sickness equals less prescriptions and less trips to the doctor.  Fact: your kids will eat what you provide.  You're the parent and you make the rules.  When my children complain, I make them this deal: get a job, do the shopping, prepare the meals.  Then we can have cheeseburgers and potato chips every night.  Guess what?  We're still eating organic veggies and grilled fish or chicken.  Fact: the more you do it, the easier it gets.  The only difficult part is the first two or three weeks.  Once those devil toxins are cast from your body, you will crave things like cantaloupe and mixed greens and water.  And then I won't have to keep slapping you.  Which is nice for both of us.

And now that I have finished my Dwight Shrute-like diatribe, I'm going to go sip my green tea, read a little Mama Llama with the babe before he naps...and then I'm gonna rip into HIIT 15 and some ab work.  Because Shakeology gave me the energy to do so.

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.)



Will Over Reason

I go through insomniac phases.  Often I can blame this on the myriad small humans waking me during the night with various complaints of darkness, fear, thirst, or needs to vomit.  As of late, it has been the fault of the youngest and his molars.  The thing is, once he is again calm and settled, snug and warm and sleeping...Mama is wide awake with Brooks-wearing butterflies running about her tummy.

ELEVEN DAYS.  That, dear Readers, is less than two weeks.  Just in case you couldn't do that math.  Speaking of math, let's talk numbers, shall we?  Eleven days.  Five to six more runs.  One Komen 5k (still time to donate!).  26.2 miles.  One thousand or more of the aforementioned butterflies.

The good news is I am only nervous when the moon's out.  My confidence rises with the sun every day and my Ego resumes its normal magnificent size.  In the light of day, I am all "pshaw" and "it ain't gonna be NOTHIN.'"  But wake me mid-slumber and I can lie awake for hours mentally dissecting each twinge of the knee, crack of the hip, or slight cramp of the calf.  It is not so much that I'm worried about my ability to finish; I am worried about my inability to make it to the starting line injury free.  I have never been what one would call graceful. 

So.  The outcome of the worry is this: no more plyo.  Modified TurboFire (I restrain myself from out and out jumps for fear of bad landings).  Lots more stretching.  Absolutely NO high heels (not that living in our section of the sticks calls for heels very often, but just in case...that's the rule for the next eleven days). 

And if I need motivation?  Well, I always have you, right?  But just in case you choose not to cheer me on (I will assume the only reason will be that fireants have gnawed off your fingertips leaving you unable to type), I have stories of previous marathoners facing much greater odds than "but it's my first one."

Take Pheidippides.  He was the first marathon runner ever.  Not only did this guy fight in the Battle of Marathon, he ran 26.2 miles without stopping to declare the victory and then dropped dead.  Now that's some grit right there.  Of course, I am hoping for far different results after my 26.2.  But I've got walking breaks, Gu, and people handing me water.  Plus, PortaPotties.  Things have changed since 490 BC.  I bet the poor guy never even read a single issue of Runner's World.

I also rather enjoy the story of Kathrine Switzer, the first woman to wear a bib number in the Boston Marathon.  Registered as "K.V. Switzer," she was chased down by a male race official upon his discovery that she was, indeed, female.  He attempted to eject her from the race but was stopped by a protective wall of fellow racers.  She finished and went on to run 35 marathons. 

Suddenly, my little old Run for the Red seems teeny in comparison.  So teeny that I know I can squash it like a bug.  Still, though...feel free to praise me.  Or buy me a tiara or a crown so everyone can see I am a Running Queen.  I won't deprive you of those things.  Because, well...that's just the sort of thoughtful girl I am.

Now...if I could just get this kid to sleep...

Just Your Typical Prototype

There comes a point in every distance run when I get emotional.  (I know some are surprised by this, but yes...even I have actual emotions.)  I never know exactly when it's going to happen and most times, I forget it's going to until it does.  And there it is - that little lump in my throat, moisture in my eyes (it doesn't sting, so I know it's more than sweat), a tightness in my chest (that is not from shortness of breath - I am a freakin' cardio queen now).  Part of it is simply the release that running brings me, a clarity of mind and simple joy in BEING.  When I take a step back and think on it, I could probably pinpoint when it will happen.  Any time during my second hour.  At a point along my route when I am more surrounded by nature and less by traffic.  When a really great song opens up on my ipod.  It may happen at different points and on different routes, but the feeling is always the same.  It is not only a gut reaction to my surroundings or the physicality of the moment.  It is the same feeling I get when I watch my daughter execute a perfect bar routine; when my son runs the football; when the babe has a new word to use every day.  It's pride.  Just this time, it's in myself.

That's right.  Proud of ME.  A year ago, I had not yet decided to run that half marathon.  I was in the midst of my first round of TurboFire and eating at the diner down the street three to four times a week.  I did not view myself as an athlete and my only concern was working my way from a size 10 to a size 8 and shedding the remaining baby weight.  Seriously - LOOK AT ME NOW.  I have no doubts about running that full marathon in two weeks.  My legs are itchin' for it.  I run because I LOVE it.  I add weighted gloves to every TurboFire workout and I lift with P90X.  I worked out live with Shaun T.  I drink Shakeology every single day and am going organic.  When I eat at the diner, I order things broiled, fresh, and healthy.  It all came down to a single decision.  Did I want to enjoy my life or regret it?

I've been called obsessed, told it's just a phase, that I've lost too much weight.  People feel they have the right to judge my lifestyle, I suppose, because I am so public about it.  Guess what?  I'm open with my choices because I want everyone to share them.  I actually want others to experience the fabulousness I have found.  And there is NO REASON that can't happen.  I am the same as you.  There is nothing in me that you cannot find within yourself.

I will not judge you for your shape, your weight, your size, your ability.  I will judge you for your inactivity and your conscious decisions to live an unhealthy life. I will judge you for clinging to a lifestyle that will shorten your time with those you love. When you run out of breath walking up the stairs or playing with your children - it's time to change things.  Stop telling me to "eat a cheeseburger" or that "big is beautiful."  You can love yourself as you are - but you need to love yourself enough to change. 

Your first step is simply making a commitment.  Walk.  Stretch.  Drink more water.  You don't have to jump into the deep end of the pool.  Not everyone has to run marathons or participate in obstacle races.  But everyone does need to fuel their bodies and shake them out now and again.  This isn't a debate anymore.  It isn't about discrimination.  It's about HEALTH.  It's about YOUR LIFE.  Who wants to live it on the sidelines?  And how do you want your children to grow up?

Obesity is on the rise.  We all know it.  We all see it.  Some of us are doing something about it.  I don't only want to make myself fit.  I want my family to be fit.  I want my friends to be fit.  I want friends of friends to be fit.  I didn't sign on to be a Beachbody coach just to get discounts or just to make a profit.  I did it because these programs opened my eyes to a whole new world of possiblities and fitness levels I never imagined I could reach.  In less than a year, I became an athlete.  I no longer dabble in fitness; it is now what I do and who I am.  And it is my goal to make that happen for you, too.  If you're reading this now, you've thought about it.  Maybe you've already made that change.  Maybe now you're feeling defensive because I've called you out.  I don't care.  What I do care about is that you get off your ass and stop making excuses. 

We aren't so different, you and I.  I used to make excuses for the food I ate and how I spent my time.  And then one day, I just had enough.  I was done being weak.  I was done with losing my breath, watching my kids play instead of playing with them, telling my kids to do their best while I did nothing. 

When your day comes, and you're ready to make that step, be sure to let me know.  You've never had a bigger or more relentless cheerleader than this gal right here.  I will annoy the living piss out of you when you try to explain why you're backsliding.  I will get in your face and refuse to accept whatever lameass excuse you're offering. 

You can thank me a year from now.

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.)

Excuses vs. Reality

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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