Tooting My Own Horn

Let me set the stage for you.

I was feeling ravenous from all those crazy Insanity workouts.  The kids were in bed, so I could eat whatever I chose without having to hide in a dark closet somewhere for fear of sharing.  (Don't act like you haven't learned to open candy wrappers with nary a crinkle.)  There were even full-sized Hershey bars sitting in the freezer (had to replenish the previously depleted supply). 

I chose salad.  And it was good.

Fer realz, yo.  Dead serious.  I couldn't get enough of those dark leafy greens, those crunchy organic carrots and red bell peppers, coated ever-so-lightly with Wegmans Traditional Italian dressing.  Just typing this, I swear to the gods of all that is fit, my mouth is watering.  For a freakin' salad.  And not a taco salad or a bowl of greens topped with ranch dressing and fried chicken strips.  Just a bowlful of that organic spring mix and various veggies chopped into bitesize pieces.  The cool crispness of it, the simple flavors!  How did this become more appealing than (dare I say it?!?) chocolate cake????

I have not a freakin' clue.  I just don't know.  The switch flipped AGAIN.  How many switches can one FitGal possibly have?  First the workout switch.  Then the Shakeology switch and the vegetarian switch and the nonalcoholic switch.  Now a salad-over-junk-food switch???  Sometimes, I just have to shake my head in wonderment at how far I've come and how much my awesomeness increases every day.

I was just describing this very scenario in a message with a friend who is on her own fitness journey.  She was, in her own words, "tooting her own horn" but then almost apologizing for doing so, perhaps, I believe, worried I may find her boastful.  Um...hello?  I reminded her that she was indeed speaking the Master Tooter, the Queen of Tooting, the Tooter of all Tooters...and so no need to backtrack on her own toots.

And yes, I found the irony and the humor in the language used, which is why you're reading about it now.  I get it.  Toot = fart.  And because I possess the humor level of a six-year-old, that is freakin' hysterical.  Especially because I have cleared rooms lately with all the veggie intake.  My apologies are extended if I don't get a handle on all these new gastrointestinal shenanigans before I see you out in public...but hey, it's just the result of some good ol' fashioned healthy eatin'!  Join me!  The old song is true: the more ya toot, the better ya feel.  It's my mantra for the time being anyway.

And it's bound to get worse, because I gotta add in some more beans to make up for the protein I'm not getting from meat.  I'm back on dairy for now, until I sit down and research that part too.  Mainly because I just feel better when I don't eat dairy, but right now, it's a convenient source of protein for me.  But the beans are still necessary, and I really do love 'em.  They fill me up, give me energy, and - most importantly - they're quite delicious...and good for your heart...*snort*chuckle*snort*

So I ain't ashamed to toot my horn.  Which is good, because sometimes, I just can't help myself, no matter how hard I may try.  Consider this fair warning: meet me outdoors and stand downwind until my body adapts to the new diet.  It'll adapt, just like my tastebuds adapted.  Till then, I'll consider it a trumpet of triumph over my previous malnourished ways.

I Feel Like I'm Taking Crazy Pills!

I believe we've covered this already, but I suppose it bears repeating.

STOP WITH THE CRAZY PILLS.

And stop with anything that says, "You don't even have to exercise! Eat anything you desire!"  I am only telling you this because I care about you.  True story.

You don't have to buy any of my outstanding Beachbody products to get in shape (although they sure do make it clear cut and simple).  You don't have to visit a nutritionist or a trainer.  The information is all out there, in magazines, on the web, in books.  Eat right.  Exercise.  That's it.  The information doesn't change - no matter how badly you may want it to.  Fit takes effort.  Healthy takes commitment.  You're either willing...or you're not.

I do try to be understanding about these things.  I was once in your shoes.  Desperate for a change and demanding it be quick.  I also used to dream of having my very own unicorn and marrying Jordan Knight.  We have fantasy and we have reality.  A lot of the time, they don't mesh.  You can choose to cry into your triple-thick shake or salt your fries with your tears...or you can buck the hell up and actually DO something about your situation.  Something long-term with lasting results.

You know why I signed on as a Beachbody coach in the first place?  Get ready, because it's all shmaltz.  The programs I used CHANGED MY LIFE.  There was no pandering, no "girly" workout toned down to make it more marketable.  Its marketability was the toughness.  And for the first time in my love/hate relationship with fitness, I was truly challenged and I LOVED it.  So I became a coach, because I believe that strongly in the programs and the products.  And I wanted to help others reach the level of fitness I am still striving for. 

You won't ever find me wandering the "diet aids" aisle in the pharmacy again.  You won't see SlimFast in my refrigerator.  If you want to locate me, look in my living room, where I'm currently training harder than I ever have.  Look on the backroads near my home, where I run faster than I ever have.  Look in the organic and produce aisles, where I shop smarter than I ever have.  Or look for me next to my kids on the playground, at the pool, on the hiking trails...instead of sitting off to the side, puffing away on a smoke.  If this overweight, chainsmoking, fast-food grubbing gal can turn herself into a lean, mean, vegetable-eating machine...EVERYONE CAN. 

You think you have an excuse?  I'd love to hear it.  Message me via my fan page on Facebook (also SweatItOut - link to your right).  Let's chat.  I can't promise I'll respond the way you want me to, but I can promise I'll respond the way you need me to.

Keepin' It Local

Ah, summertime!  Sunshine, swimming, outdoor workouts...and fresh roadside produce!  I love that I can drive a mere ten minutes to do such a big portion of our grocery shopping instead of my typical half an hour.  This is one time of year when it pays to live in rural Pennsylvania.

I was tremendously excited at the prospect of a new market on the market - even closer than the one I typically frequent.  So the Bear and I hopped into the van and scooted over - to find merchandise and extremely minimal produce.  We were sorely disappointed but not about to abandon our cravings for fresh and local.  Off to Jersey!  (And that's not something we often say with enthusiasm around these parts.)

But Marshall's Farm Market is reason for excitement!  They have a beautiful little setup and incredibly tasty and bountiful selections to satisfy those wanting to shop out of doors.  We found piles of juicy red tomatoes; bushels of multi-colored apples; bags of plump cherries; baskets of ripe blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and strawberries.  Hello, heaven!  Everything is reasonably priced, organized, clean, and incredibly fresh.  Not a mushy apple or tomato to be found.  There was no searching for an unbruised piece of fruit or a not-overly-ripe vegetable.  All we had to do was reach out our hands and grab.  Perfection.

Aside from the fantastic produce selection, they also sell various homemade items (we plan on returning special for those and will report upon tasting).  The Bear snagged an enormous pickle during our checkout and I have got to say, after sampling one teeny and one Jaws-size bite, that's the best freakin' pickle I have ever tasted.  Including PA Renaissance Faire pickles.  (I am an expert in all things on-a-stick.  Trust me on this.) 

To top off our very pleasurable outdoor shopping experience, the customer service was outstanding.  Smiles, pleasant exchanges, even a chuckle.  Which is nice after so many vacant stares in checkout lines or overheard conversations of breaktimes and leave times (always anxiously looked forward to as each cashier is always overwhelmed with the idiots in their lines...Ummm...hello?).  Side note: I have always had impeccable customer service at Wegmans as well.  That is my indoor food shopping heaven. 

So please!  Keep this stand profitable!  I do so want it to always be there, so close and so fabulous.  Meet us there this fall for the awesome Halloween setup (which includes free cider doughnuts and warm cider with the hayride *eyesrollingbackinheadwithecstasy*).  Or meet us there next weekend for more produce browsing and buying! 

Plus - now I'm even more ready for my run outside!  That sunshine is addicting and my day started off with plenty of Fit-Life-livin' moments: Hubby mixed up our Shakeology this morning (delectable as always!); did 200 squats to challenge my KickOffSummer Challengers; shopped the local produce stand and came away with good eats.  Look out, folks!  This chick is on a roll!

http://www.marshallsfarmmarket.net/

The Big Piece of the Pie

Two of the four in one big ass sammich

I like food.  I like food ALOT.  I have never been a girl to say, "Oh, I forgot to eat" or "I just didn't have time to eat today."  Because in my world, that cannot happen.  Hubby and the monkeys will attest to the fact that Hungry Mommy is the siamese twin of Cranky Mommy (aka SpongeMom Angrypants).  And not so long ago, I ate what I craved.  And what I craved typically involved the four food groups: bacon, peanut butter, chocolate, and/or cheese.  My best meals combined these four pillars of nutrition in myriad ways, one of the all-time favorites being PB&B sandwiches (peanut butter & bacon, of course).  So why, then, was I so totally mystified that working out was not giving me all the muscle definition I so desired?  I was one of THEM.  One of those who wants so badly for something to be true that I simply decide it is true and continue about my business. 

What changed?  I can't pinpoint the exact WHY or WHEN of the changing, but recently (within the past few months) something just clicked.  Like the Gods of Nutrition flipped the switch in my brain from "Junkie" to "Health Nut."  Suddenly, eating properly and fueling my body instead of gorging and putting my body to sleep seemed, well...easy.  Or at least, relatively so.

Fish with Flava - ala Shaun T

Because I do nosh from time to time.  I slip.  I chow.  I nibble at the cheese plate.  But this is what I find: even when I fall off the wagon, I don't fall far.  That nibble sates me and I'm back to clean eating.  Or what I prefer to call (mostly) clean eating.  Because I am, in fact, human.  I sometimes enjoy a splurge in the calories...It's just that it is no longer a daily occurrence.  The results I want, the body I want...It isn't going to just arrive in the mail with my next Beachbody purchase.  I have to work just as hard at fueling it as I do training it.

And that's the other motivator - the training.  All that time and effort I'm expending is pretty precious to me.  Why trash it all with a poor fueling system?  Because that's really what food is for - fueling our bodies.  It's enjoyable fuel, but fuel nonetheless.  Nutella is not going to power my marathon training (yep, I'm scheduling the next already).  Taco pizza will not give me that extra edge to push through my Spartan Race.  I choose instead a diet of Shakeology, fresh veggies and fruits, and lean meats.  I drink water like it's...well, water.  I am eliminating soda and refined sugars.  I am gradually going organic and gluten free.  When I shop, I shop the perimeters of the grocery store because that's where they keep the good stuff. 

Healthy cranberry scones

And that word I just used..."diet."  I typically dislike that word.  I do not approve of the connotations that it carries, the ideas of restriction and temporariness.  Because eating correctly is not about restriction and it should never be temporary.  This is a lifestyle - and a rewarding one at that.  I feel better, I look better...In fact, I look better now than I did in my teens and 20's (I just have more laugh lines, but laughter suits me).  I am fitter than I have ever been and I just keep getting better.  My awesomeness levels are higher every day...I simply cannot help myself.  Which means, you know...you can do the same thing.  You can actually DO IT instead of just TALKING ABOUT DOING IT. 

As a parent, I feel it's my job to show by example.  Unfortunately, they've had seven or so years of bacon lust as an example, so we're learning together.  They are surprisingly receptive to fresh fruit, learning to accept the vegetables, and thoroughly enjoying the lean meats.  Treats are treats and they are not every day.  We don't keep soda or sugar drinks in our house and even school snacks have gone organic (we made the switch from Oreos to Newman-Oh's and Goldfish to Cheddar Bunnies without a single complaint).  So again, it's doable.  There's no excuse of "my kids just won't eat that."  When ours do whine about yet another healthy dinner (and it happens because they're KIDS), I allow that they can choose dinner entrees, too...when they get a job, do the shopping, and learn to cook.  Until then, we eat what I cook (or, to be honest, what Hubby cooks.  And he cooks what I plan and buy). 

My daily breakfast

My whole point today is this: if I can put down the Thin Mints, the Diet Cokes, and the Funyuns...anyone can.  It's less about willpower and more about a singular decision: do you want to continue wishing for health and fitness, or do you actually want to have it? 

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.

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.

What Runners Don't Tell You...

It's funny because it's true.  Although I must admit, I don't have a black toenail yet.  I do, however, sport two blood blisters and multiple callouses.  Pretty feet are simply not part of being a runner.  I mourned the loss of several hard-earned callouses two weeks ago when I went for what I thought was an innocent pedicure.  No one had warned me otherwise; I felt I deserved a treat for all the hard work I've been putting in.  It was dumb.  When I returned from my 16+ mile run the following day, I had enormous and incredibly painful blood blisters that frightened my children and sent them backing out of the room, away from me and my hideous feet, looks of disgust on their precious little faces.  Lesson #1: love your nasty feet.  Do not attempt to beautify them.  Focus instead on your lovely legs.  Lesson #1.5: invest in good socks.  $12.99 may seem pricey at first, but it becomes a hell of a lot cheaper when you're trying to wedge your sore feet into any shoes other than slippers.

Good socks and better bandaids.  And they always look good in running shoes.

Lesson #2:  If you run any serious distances, you're gonna have the urge do make a number two.  It is not a pleasant topic nor one to brag about.  ("You won't believe the BM I had when I finished my run! Incredible!")  I suppose this is why nobody warned me...but I discovered it on my own last summer while training for my half.  And discovered it again while running the half and being forced into portapotties after other runners experiencing the same awful smelling issues.  My suggestion?  No fruits or veggies before a long run, and try to "drop the kids at school" before you leave the house.  That may get you down to just gas.  (Further advice: always try to be first.  Not just to win, but because it places you out of the cropdusting danger zone.)  I sometimes imagine being propelled forward by these "power bursts" and often forget that though I cannot hear them due to my headphones, anyone I happen to pass will jerk their head in my direction.  So now I wait for the lonely backroads before I set myself free.

Lesson #3:  Gu, while effective, tastes like crap and feels like insect guts inching down your throat.  Think back to your first shots, chugging 'em back as quickly as possible and trying desperately not to puke in your mouth.  This is similar.  I gag every time, but I know I need easy fuel on those long runs.  So I stock up on what I deem the most unoffensive flavors and choke it back every 30 to 45 minutes.  My body thanks me nearly instantly upon finishing its initial revolt.

Lesson #4:  Slather yourself in BodyGlide.  I used to think myself quite special because I didn't chafe.  Turns out I just need to run farther.  Now I'm a chafin' fool.  So I got my first stick of Body Glide and have become a faithful user, applying wherever my skin touches clothing or other skin or armbands for my ipod.  I estimate I'll need another stick by the end of next week.  Chafe me once, shame on...my lack of chafing before.  Chafe me twice...Well, it's not gonna happen twice.  So there.

Lesson #5:  Always have frozen peas on hand.  They are excellent for icing sore knees upon finishing a distance run.  And it's economical and nutritious, too.  I bet you can't say that about any other ice packs.

Lesson #6:  Stretch mid-run.  I like to pause each hour and do a quick stretch while gagging on my Gu.  My legs thank me and I feel entirely refreshed when I start back up.  Stretch again for a longer time when you get home.  It's good for you and it feels delicious, too.  I call it my "poor girl's massage."  Plus, it gives me at least an extra ten minutes to excuse myself from tattling children and battles of who can do more and better math problems (no, seriously.  This happens.).

Lesson #7:  Rest before and after extra long runs.  I typically give myself one to two days beforehand and have watched my performance vastly improve.  The day after is also a rest day, but one involving as much non-workout movement as I can fit in.  Catch with the monkeys, a slow stroll, maybe another stretching session.  Just so the knees and muscles and hips and mind don't get all "We don't need no stinkin' workout" on me.  Sometimes you gotta remind those little whiners who's boss and that one day of hard work does not necessitate any lazing about.

Lesson #8:  If you're training for a half or a full marathon, you're gonna have to start blocking out some serious time.  Schedule in advance and be prepared to run in weather that doesn't involve sunlight or warmth.  Relish in being that batshit crazy person running in snow and rain or chugging along just as the sun wakes up.  Accept that sometimes life will get in the way and shorten your training sessions whether you pitch a fit about it or not (apparently, the universe does not care when I pout and make sarcastic comments).  The best way I've found to ensure I get my time in?  Schedule it the way I do anything else.  I will be busy at this time and Hubby must be present at home to prevent bloody battle wounds or playing with matches/running with scissors/etc.  Sometimes that requires asscrack of dawn pockets of time.  Deal with it.  If it's important, you'll find a way.  If it's not, you'll find an excuse.

Hoppin' Down the Candy Trail

It happens every holiday, be they big or small.  Sacks, baskets, buckets o' sugar are heaped upon the children (and by proxy me, whose willpower shrinks in fear in the face of anything chocolate covered or filled) to "celebrate."  No sooner has the Halloween candy disappeared (some into the overjoyed bellies and more into the trash) than we have candy canes and Christmas cookies filling our countertops.  There are the itty bitty candied hearts on Valentine's day (along with the larger chocolates...*sigh* and *cringe*) and gold foil-covered chocolate coins on St. Patrick's Day.  And then Easter.  Baskets overflowing with Reese's, Skittles, and those frighteningly neon Peeps.  A basket at home from the Bunny himself.  And baskets at each house visited, plus candy in the pretty plastic eggs planted in bushes and drainpipes.  My stomach heaves a little just looking at the mountains of peanut butter-filled, chocolate-covered, candy-coated poison.  Of course, that doesn't prohibit my greedy little hands from reaching out to sneak my fair share.

And it's not just the candy.  Nor is the candy the worst of it.  At least for me, those holiday meals suck me in worse than any sweet nosh.  The juicy ham, lumpy mashed potatoes, and homemade gravy.  The buttered corn and buttered biscuits and buttered anything-else-my-butter-knife-can-find.  The pies, cakes, and desserts of the no-bake variety with whipped cream and pudding-like substances!  I cannot stop myself.  It is as though my body moves of its own accord, racing away from all that hard work and discipline to shovel in mounds of starches, salts, and bad fats.  I suppose it is like any addiction...You can kick the habit, but one slip up and you're barrelling down the mountain at full speed.  Luckily, I am better at putting on the brakes and getting back on track than I used to be.  It just tends to happen one to two days later, after the initial food hangover has left and the second one has been worked through.  That old saying about "the hair of the dog?"  That, my friends, is CRAP. 

Who wants to roll around in bed all day, clutching aching bellies and moaning when you could be jumping, moving, and enjoying the just-as-tasty and so-much-better-for-you fruits and veggies?  We tell ourselves that the candy/ham/potatoes are a reward and that we deserve them.  I don't know about you, but feeling nauseous and exhausted doesn't seem so rewarding to me.  And I firmly believe that I (and my body that has been treating me so well) deserve much better.  Of course, this realization hit me after I ate my weight in biscuits and cracker candy, only to follow it up the next day with peanut butter cups and Twizzlers.  Turns out, healthy living has ruined binge eating for me.  I may as well have willfully given myself the flu.  I felt that awful.

Then I thought, I'm giving this stuff to my kids.  Awful, awful Mommy!  I wouldn't hand my kids cartons of cigarettes or cases of beer.  So why do I load baskets full of other toxins as a celebratory gift?  Well, I won't be anymore.  I laid down the law and told Hubby that from here on out, that Bunny brings gifts, not candy.  And we bring healthy fruit and veggie trays to graze on when we go elsewhere for dinners.  No more binging.  No more days of recovery for falling off the wagon. 

...I just hope I retain this feeling of superiority over Hershey and Mars when I next stare down their progeny during a moment of craving...

The Little Picture

Taking off into the fog

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

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

Geared up

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

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

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

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

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

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

14.5, baby! BRING IT!

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...

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!)



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Self Motivation

Motivation used to sound like a curse to me, just with more than the usual four letters.  It was the missing ingredient, the missing link, the missing puzzle piece in any program that I engaged in.  I would see an infomercial, read an article or book and become hellbent on getting in shape...for about a week.  Then I would get tired, or busy, or bored...and quit.  And feel like a failure.
So...how do I stay motivated now? There are three main ways and then lots of smaller ones.  The "small" ones aren't small, really.  They just don't push me quite as hard when I'm really not feeling the urge to sweat.  I want to be fit for my family, my health, my quality of life.  And those are big reasons.  But they don't always get LazyMe moving. 
LazyMe is silenced more by knowing how I will feel when I'm done.  When I feel like I just went from Peter Parker to Spiderman, muscles inflated and abs defined.  When I just ran 10 miles instead of watching 10 hours of television.  When I know I DID SOMETHING with my day instead of wasting moments of my life.  There's one way.
The second way is newer and grounded in my new business as a Beachbody Coach.  Who's gonna buy in to the fabulous changes these programs can bring if I don't show them what it did for me?  I need to be a product of the product, which has the outstanding side effects of feeling and looking incredible. (You see how everything starts cycyling here? It's a lifestyle, not just an hour out of your day.)
The third and biggest way I stay motivated is TRAINING FOR AN EVENT.  This year is a big event year for me.  I am running three marathons, competing in my first Spartan race, and signing up for various 5k's when timing and finances permit.  My pride will not allow me to enter into an event and not complete it.  I am not gonna lie; I want BRAGGING RIGHTS.  I want to wear my free tshirts, post sweaty/muddy/action shots up on Facebook and have people say, "Congrats! You rock!" It feels pretty good.  After all, we don't get gold stars or Student of the Month awards anymore.  But we CAN get MEDALS.  I like prizes.  I like shiny things.  Events have SO MANY THINGS I WANT! 
So, when motivation seems MIA, I remind myself that Run For the Red is only four months away.  Spartan is only six months away.  And I cannot fail. 

Just Do It

It's raining.  It's cold.  The baby was up late and up early.  I simply did NOT feel like working out today.  But neither did I feel like being wracked with guilt later on for not completing today's workout goal.  So with a heavy sigh, I popped in Fire 55 EZ and strapped on my BeachBody gloves - because my goal is to wear my gloves for every cardio workout (I want to make Michelle Obama jealous).
And 55 minutes later? I was bouncing off the walls and feeling anything BUT guilty! Comfort zone? WHAT comfort zone? BOOYAH!
This moment is what I remind myself of whenever LazyMe pokes her head out from beneath the covers and says, "Not today." Because FabulousMe is so much more FUN to be (not to mention, her jeans fit oh-so-much better).
And that success carried over into lunchtime - when I prepared Chalene's chocolate protein pancakes for myself and the babe.  We devoured them with bananas and honey...and stayed away from the peanut butter cream pie and cheesey bread that had been so tempting before my TurboFire session.
I am still riding high on endorphins and goals accomplished.  My only regret is that I didn't discover the bliss of healthy living when I was younger.  Which is why, on a daily basis, my kids see me working towards fitness and health (and even join in from time to time - we ran our first family 5k just after Thanksgiving).  It pleases me to say that Chalene Johnson is a household name, and that those kiddos cheer me on when they see me doing P90X ("That is SO HARD, Mom! I can see your muscles getting bigger!").