Slight Variation...

Today marks Day One of Serious Spartan Training (to be henceforth knows as SST).  Serious for me, at least.  I have yet to reach the level of Beast that I do so long to reach, but I'm climbing the steps to get there.  So what did I do today, you ask?  I am gonna tell you.

Today I ran my fastest Short Loop EVER.  (The Short Loop, if you recall, is what Hubby and I have named the 3.7 mile circuit near our house.)  I ran that sucker in 33:52 using 9:1 intervals.  And to be completely honest, my body didn't need those minute breaks.  My mind needed them just to keep things interesting and varied.  You see, that zen state where I forgo intervals just cannot be reached in a mere 33 minutes.  I need more than an hour, and today I did not have that kind of time.  (Or more importantly, that kind of water supply.  Once I was out there, I was very tempted to head out for the Medium Loop.  If I'd taken water, I wouldn't be back yet.)  So anyway - back to my point...what was it again?  Oh yes!  I'm speedy!  Well, I'm speedy for me.  I averaged a 9:07 minute mile, well under my typical 10:30.  So that's exciting.

I bet you're thinking I was done after that.  But you're wrong.  I ran right to the shade of our trees and did 50 static lunges on each leg.  Then I dropped and did 20 pushups.  Came inside, grabbed some water and a banana.  Did 12 burpees.  Now I'm done.  And I feel SPECTACULAR!  I love a new routine and I love kicking ass.  This totally works for me.  Which is really handy because I plan on doing some version of it three days a week until I start the Insanity Challenge.  (Speaking of which, I really need to come up with a cooler name for that.  Feel free to hit me with your ideas.)  I do believe I will require Hubby to hang that rope in the backyard so I can begin climbing practice after my runs.  Which means gloves to protect my dainty little paws...which means shopping...Oooh!  This IS a great day!

Less than a month to go until the Spartan.  Expect more posts like this one.  You know, extolling the awesomeness of me and my workouts.  I know, I know.  But it's a variation on the theme.  Now I'm not just running, see?  Variety.  It's the spice of a Fit Life.  Sprinkle some on your plate, why don't ya?

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.

Girl Crush

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

Post TurboFire...actual sweat, actual abs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Easy Street

After my first QiDANCE master class

Rest week, shmest week.  My QiDANCE DVD came in the mail today and I had to get my groove on.  I just about have the first song down, hip swivels and all.  This is probably where not having a full length mirror comes in a little handy; I can imagine I look just as sexy as I feel.  And after more than a week of jammin' out to the CD, the moves are coming pretty naturally with the music.  I have about a month left before the first class and I plan on bein' readier than ready. 

Strolling

Hey there, sheep.

Aside from my new dancing obsession, I'm taking it slow and easy (aside from a Tabat Boot Camp class on Monday, but I kept it within range).  I actually took an entire day off yesterday, leaving me feeling at loose ends and as though I was forgetting something all day.  Today, the babe and I strolled leisurely along part of my regular running route, stopping for some photos and to say hello to the sheep.  And then, of course, my QiDANCE extravaganza. 

And all the while, several times a day and sometimes several times an hour, that marathon is racing around the back of my mind.  I have created and recreated a mental checklist for the day prior and the morning of.  Both involve the camera, of course.  And the afternoon after involves Skinny Girl cocktails (after I replenish a few calories) and friends and family to celebrate.  I keep contemplating a tiara but try to convince myself that my new medal will suffice.  What I haven't been concentrating on is the actual running of the race.

Along my route

I've been training for approximately seven months with this marathon in mind.  I don't skip training and I don't quit when I feel tired.  I eeked out some runs and blasted through others.  Most importantly, I have finished each and every one.  (Well, except for the one that was interrupted by some nasty shin pain...but I made that up the next week.)  I have put my time in.  This body is ready.  The race is not the hard part; the hard part is over.  I finished seven months of the hard part.  I know I can do five hours (or less!) of the easy part. 

A view on each run

A friend and fellow runner just reminded me that I will only get one first marathon, and I don't intend to waste it worrying.  I want to relish every moment (and I will relay many, so consider yourself warned) and keep the day as special as it ought to be.  This is just the public culmination of the days, weeks, and months I've spent preparing.  But, hey...we all know I love a good public spectacle involving myself.  And the fact that I get a medal at the end of it just makes it that much better.

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...

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.)

Get Into The Groove

I finally got my sixteen miles in this weekend.  To be more precise, 16.48.  I ran a new route through the National Park portion of the Delaware Water Gap and fell in love while listening to Sheryl Crow sing "Run, Baby, Run."  It was the moment of my run.  Every run or workout has the moment that keeps me coming back.  Some even have a series of them, and this run was one of those.  But this moment was the moment of the moments for this one.  I even did a little Leo and Kate on Titanic moment to soak it in.  My joints felt great, my muscles felt strong, my lungs felt full.  It was a good day to be alive and running.  And the song just made it more.

Any workout can be a better workout with the right playlist.  I favor anthemic feminist songs (and I'm not ashamed to include Fighter by Christina and  Stronger by Britney in that mix), but just about anything can get my heart pumping the way I need it to.  My only prerequisite for adding a tune to my list is that when I hear it, I immediately want to sing and sing LOUDLY.  I have everything from Neil Diamond to Indigo Girls to NWA blasting in my ears when I run.  Although I am always scouting new additions, these are a few of my all-time favorites to make my little feet move faster and farther.

Eminem, Lose Yourself.  Great beat.  Fantastic lyrics.  In-your-mother-f&#*in'-face attitude.  YES, please and THANK YOU.  No matter how beat I may feel before this comes on, I am always at the top of my game during and for miles after I hear "You only get one shot..."  And I swear, my ipod saves this for that exact moment I start to fade or pause to think about throwing in the towel, because every single run, this song gets me back on track. 

Ozzy, Crazy Train.  Love the song, sure.  But I love what it brings to mind even more.  My little werewolf listened to this song to get pumped up for his wrestling matches, and there were so many moments he could have given up (and gotten lots of non-embarasssing hugs and kisses from his mommy) but didn't.  I just picture him and that scary look of determination and know that I simply cannot fail.  Even if he is at home waiting with lots of completely wanted hugs and kisses for his mommy.

Zac Brown Band, Toes.  Simply because it takes me away from burning lungs and the twinges in my knees and/or shins and plants my tired fanny right where I want it, in warm sand under a blue and sunny sky (and preferably next to a very tan cabana boy holding a Skinny Girl margarita).  This song takes me out of my current location to a much more desirable one, if only for a few minutes and is closely followed by Where The Boat Leaves From on my favorites list.

Anything by the Beastie Boys.  Do I really need to expand on this?  Or can we all just agree that the three boys from Brooklyn, quite simply, rock?  (Strangely, I have the same to say about Prince and No Doubt.  It's just good music, people.)

Bruce Springsteen, Born To Run.  It's a tad obvious, but it works.  The raw emotion, the sweeping chorus.  Plus, I am running so close to New Jersey that I feel obligated to throw in some of the Boss and a smattering (or a hefty helping) of Bon Jovi. 

Joan Jett, Bad Reputation.  Because really, I don't give a damn about my bad reputation.  I've got more important things to worry about than others' fascination with my life (though, of course, it is completely understandable, seeing as how I'm AWESOME).  I'm runnin' over here, people!  I don't give a damn about anything other than my breathing and my pace.

These are just a few.  Name another great tune and I'm likely to say emphatically, "I LOVE that one! That's my favorite!"  In this way, I am much like the young werewolf, as his favorite song is whichever great song happens to be playing at the moment.  This month, most often, that is Eastbound and Down by Jerry Reed (and yes, I just confirmed with him that I had the correct artist name).  And guess what?  That's a pretty good running song for me, too.  I've got a long way to go, and a short time to get there...I'm gonna do what they said can't be done...

Maybe I ought to get a bandit mask to wear with my tiara...

Rah!Rah!Sis-Boom-Bah!

My biggest supporter...

So yesterday, I had to vent.  Get some stuff off my extra-strong chest.  I grumbled and made use of a small amount of sarcasm.  Today I'd like to balance that out.  You know, just like I do both weight training and cardio (and stretching...I'm getting better at adding in the stretching now, but that's an entirely other blog entry...hinthint...)

I have committed to training so much that I often feel I just ought to be committed.  Most days are two-a-days, with each session ranging anywhere from thirty minutes to over an hour.  That's a pretty big chunk of time with four monkeys, two dogs, two cats, and one engineer needing my everpresent guidance and ordering-around.  Yes, there's naptimes, school times, work times in which to wedge my sweaty alone times, but often enough, I have to create that space when all these creatures are actually home.  Which means I must depend on them to allow me to utilize that time.  Hubby must tend to monkey spats and tattles, doggy doody (hehe), and any random need the smaller creatures may find they have while I smile, wave, and run away.  Without Hubby, my long runs would be nonexistent.  And there would be no foot rubs while I describe them in great detail to what I am sure is his sincere interest.  (I'm sure his thoughts are more along the lines of "mmmm...beer" but I still like to pretend he's enthralled with my breathing ease at mile nine.)

Running away is the best.  I get to be all alone, no distractions.  Their little legs are just too short to catch up with me.  But (sigh) sometimes it is not to be...Sometimes, I must work out in the living room while the house is full up with others, just waiting for that moment when my breathing gets heavy...so they can ask me why the sky is blue, if I've seen the new commercial for that plastic toy that will break instantly upon being touched, or (my personal favorite) - "Hey, Mom...guess what?"  It can totally suck to exercise at home...but it can also be the most rewarding work out of my week.  It's not every day that people are amazed at what I lift or how high I jump.  Chalene Johnson does not peek out from the television screen to admire my pumps.  My favorite, though, is when they enter the room in sweats and sneakers, wristbands and tank tops, and ask if they can join in.  They tend to fade out when the steps get too fast, but they slide into a nearby chair and chat to me, compliment me, and encourage me in my sweaty endeavors. 

I'm aware that the naysayers I wrote about yesterday exist in greater numbers, but their power is minimal when compared to my own personal cheerleading squad.  And it extends beyond the M&M Estate.  When I ran my ten miles last month in my hometown, my finish line included sisters, children, nieces, parents...even my parents' neighbors.  At least three times a week, I find personal messages on Facebook or hotmail, thanking me for inspiration and offering congrats on just my training.  I haven't even finished my race yet, and the cheers are pouring in.  I wish I could get you all gold-plated megaphones or dollar-bill pompoms...but that will have to wait until my Beachbody business takes off just a tad bit more...All the same, I thank you from the bottom of my ever-fitter heart, because without you, I couldn't keep on keepin' on the way I do. 

*MWAH*

Inspiration + Motivation = Perspiration

Inspiration plus motivation equals perspiration.  That's as close as my brain gets to a scientific fact some days.  We all have those days, don't we?  When even coffee the consistency of sludge can't shove our gears into place, let alone get the whole machine running.  When we run on autopilot and are forced to continually jumpstart our overworked brains just to make it through the first hour...and the second....and the other twenty-two...So.  How do we enter into any sort of training when dragging our feet Igor-style seems to be a much better solution?  For me, I try to remember all the reasons I'm motivated.  Kids.  Waistline.  Health.  Events.  But some days, they just don't cut it.  I can recite my motivations backwards and forwards, but when I do that they tend to lose their electrical current.  I need fresh and new to get me moving.  So, I get cheesey - and I look for slogans.

They are all over the place! Pinterest and Facebook are my favorite places to hunt them down, but I am sure there are plenty of slogan gamelands.  The less forgiving they are, the more I like 'em.  The more they resemble something Louis Gossett Jr. would shout in Richard Gere's face, the better!  On days like that, I need more than rote motivators.  I need someone kicking my ass into motion and screaming at me to keep it there.  Now, we all know that I am a stay-at-home mom whose biggest challenges tend to revolve around poop, be it baby or canine...but I like to imagine that if need be, I  could be more Sarah Connor circa Terminator 2 than June Cleaver circa anytime.  So in-your-face slogans usually work for me.  When I read them, I read them the way they're usually printed: IN ALL CAPS.  In my face and screaming at me, possibly adding "YOU MAGGOT!" at the end for good measure.  Today started as one of those days...with me shuffling about in my pj's, sipping Ginko tea to make me smarter while I recited Llama Llama Red Pajama as Jack flipped the pages.  Then, because I knew I had to do something, I plopped myself down in front of the computer and made my brain yell at me in cruel and disparaging ways.  I inspired myself all the way through an hour and a half of Shaun T and his deliciously amazing abs.  BOOYAH!

Which brings me to another inspirational startup I rely on - images of fit people.  I especially enjoy the transformation photos, when people not only get lean but incredibly tan and happy.  I'm thinking that before I post my "after" photos at the end of this month, I may need to get a good spray tan and whiten my teeth to make the contrast even more inspirational. (I wonder if I can convince Hubby that transformations such as mine also make oneself far more stylish...?)

 But you know what's even better than a total stranger's before-and-afters?  INFOMERCIALS! I can wake up to an informercial for a progam I already own and get completely ramped up about it all over again.  And then have trouble falling back to sleep because I quite literally can't wait to do the workout.  It happens pretty frequently - woken up by Hubby's deep gutteral snores and there's Chalene or Tony or Shaun T hawking their lifechanging programs.  Not only do they show me the B&A's, they show me clips of fabulous looking people actually doing the workouts!  It's like my new porn...gets my blood pumping and I'm tossing and turning waiting for a more appropriate time to turn on the tv and crank up the volume to TurboFire.  I'm sure somewhere there's a support group for junkies like me...but I bet it's got a finish line and nutritional supplements instead of a circle of chairs and free donuts...