Earning It

You know what happens when you're so full of awesome it starts leaking out your pores? People try to steal it.  True story. 

Most of the time, it's quite flattering.  I get a rush of my own motivation when I learn others are motivated by this very blog right here.  Love that.  I feel all pumped up when new fans are added to my Facebook fan page and actually interact there.  That is fantastic.  And I jump at the chance to babble on and on about my Fit Life passions when people have questions about their very own fitness pursuits.  Adore this.  These are three of the reasons I choose to keep my accounts public.  So everyone has access to my awesomeness.  (And my business - don't forget to check out those hot little ads flashing to your right.)  All I ask in return is...don't be a behind-the-scenes stalker.  Don't twist all this positivity into bitterness.  You ain't gots ta be jealous - this club does not boast exclusive membership.  Everyone can join.

I'm gonna warn all you newbies now: when others see your results, they typically have one of two reactions.  1: "You look incredibly healthy! Tell me how you achieved such amazing results so I can do that too!" or 2. "You look incredibly healthy! I am very jealous and want to tear you down!"  See, most of you reading this fall under that first group, and I just love ya to pieces!  We're going places, you and I!  You've joined my KickOffSummer Challenge group; you've messaged me, FB'd or tweeted me, you've double-tapped my pics on Instagram.  You ROCK.  Keep motivating me, please!  You're doing wonders for my abs. 

Now you folks in Group 2...how come?  Haters don't have to hate.  And haters don't have to imitate.  See, we Group 1 people appreciate individuality.  You know the saying, "You were born an original...don't be a copy?"  That's good stuff, right there.  Learn it.  Know it.  Live it.  And relax.  Take all that energy you're expending on bitterness, jealousy, and cutting down and put it into a really fabulous workout.  Amazing things will happen for you!  Your shoulders will drop down away from your steaming ears; your frown will turn upside down; your entire ass will unclench.  And hey, we'll be right here with open toned arms, just waiting to crush you in fit hugs and slap your back with genuine praise. 

But until you make that forward step...you just motivate me.  You fuel my workouts.  Your disdain and surety that I can't do it makes me certain that I can.  My advice to you?  Until you reclaim your sanity, step aside so you don't get run over.  This here train...it's movin' at full speed and there ain't nothin' you can do to stop it.

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'.

National Day of Running??? WHAT?!?

Today is National Running Day! I only became aware of this outstanding celebration yesterday, but darn tootin' I'm taking part.  Partly because I have a run scheduled for today anyway, but also because I love the idea of celebrating running!  You know why I adore running? Just in case you don't, I'm gonna tell you.

I love the freedom of it.  As in, it's cheap.  Equipment is minimal - you get yourself a good solid pair of running shoes, and you're set.  The rest - the iPod, the watch, the fuel belts - are add-ons.  You don't have to have them. 

Setting out for an early morning run

I love the solitary aspect.  Yes, I'm a people person most of the time.  That's how come I crave alone time.  For the majority of the day, I am busy cramming my thoughts into other people's heads and trying to process the myriad little voices that are fighting to enter my own head.  (Although, to be fair, those little voices share a basic unifying thought: "MOM!" Apparently, just saying that one. singular. word. over and over is entertainment enough.) 

I love the sense of accomplishment I get from a long run.  I enjoy my TurboFire, my P90X, my HipHop Abs, and my QiDANCE...but the feeling after a long run is just...separate. Because just last year, right around this time, I could barely eke out 20 minutes.  Running is a measurable accomplishment, a way for me to say, again, that my body is capable of amazing things.

My first race medal

I love running for the sense of peace I receive during a long run.  And by long run, I mean longer than an hour and preferably longer than two. It takes me that first hour to find my place, my zen, my stride.  After that, the freedom and the solidarity combine and my world takes on a rosier hue.  Cars may pass; their sounds are muted.  The sun can shine; the rain can fall; the wind can blow...everything just adds to the moment.  For me, running is the only workout I have found that offers this sense of quiet, this sense of relaxation during maximum effort.  I think more clearly; problems that plague me before my feet hit the asphalt suddenly sort themselves out and seem small. 



Finishing my first marathon

I love the sense of community among runners.  Experienced runners are consistently enthusiastic about helping beginners; elite runners rejoice in the amateur runners' race times.  Picture a dog finding another dog.  For them, that moment is ALWAYS AMAZING.  In their world of humans, they have discovered another canine at last.  Runners are the same way.  Don't believe me? Attend any race, walk into any runner's store, and find someone who's been running for years.  Tell them you're new to the game and ask advice...and be prepared to chat for a good length of time. 

I love that I can share it with my kids.  Sure, the runs will be shorter and slower.  But someday, I imagine that we will be completing 5k's, 10k's, half marathons, and full marathons together.  My daughter especially has a natural runner's gait and a wonderful speed.  I am already envious of her potential as a runner, as I am of the slow-and-steady variety. 

Take this National Day of Running as a sign, a hint, a reason...and lace up! Step out! Go RUNNING!  Clear your head; find your zen; feel that pride.  All you've gotta do is put on your shoes and GO.

Eyes Forward

An object in motion tends to stay in motion, right?  I got to keep on movin'...Eyes forward...And lots of other stuff that means "don't stop where you are."  I focused pretty deeply on that marathon, but that finish line has been crossed.  It's time to shift priorities from running to grappling, crawling, and climbing.  Time to shop for grip gloves and underarmour tank tops.  Time to train dirty.  I'm goin' Spartan.  Less than two months till my first mud race and I'm already feelin' antsy.  My legs are twitchin' and my arms are ready to climb.  I've taken a relatively easy time since Run for the Red.  Now I need to get back in the trenches...so I'm thinking Insanity is the only way to go.

Don't get me wrong...I still have lots of affection for Tony, and Chalene will always be my first love.  But I need to start combining some serious cardio with intense strength training...plus, I wanna try something new and shiny.  You probably haven't noticed, but I tend to enjoy mixing up the workouts a bit.  It doesn't help that every time I am roused from my beauty sleep in the middle of the night, Shaun T is the second person I see and hear (the first, of course, being snoring hubby/scared Bear/sick Werewolf/cranky Rooster - and yes, everyone has an animal nickname.  Because we are all BEASTS).  It was informercials that got me where I am today; specifically Beachbody informercials...so I think we can all agree that this middle-of-the-night-workout-ad-extravaganza is a sign from the exercise gods.  I am supposed to start Insanity, and apparently, they want me to start it pretty soon.

In the meantime, I am stealing motivation from my very first Challenge group, an excited and ornery group I pulled together to encourage and cheer each other on while they also fight to their last breath to win a very serious points contest involving grueling daily fitness challenges and snack recipes.  Their excitement bolsters my excitement...which also makes me want to buy Insanity, and in a strange chain of enthusiasm, more bathing suits and lululemon shorts.  Hmmm...

I don't think there is any way around this.  I try to find another route, but I just keep coming back to WWSTD?  Indeed...what would Shaun T do?  Well, I mean aside from ripping off his shirt to the screams of delighted women everywhere...

Well, until I can officially plead Insanity, I suppose running and a climbing rope in the backyard will have to suffice.  Because I really do need to stay in motion...these feet are not happy unless they stink with sweat.  (Hey, fair warning just in case we should meet in public...)

I Got To Keep On Movin'

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

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

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

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

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

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



Will Over Reason

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Your Typical Prototype

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can thank me a year from now.

Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny...

...Old Navy leopard print bikini...Isn't that how the song goes?  It SHOULD.  At the behest of my dear darling daughter (who may have just entrenched herself as my Current Favorite Child), I tried on a bikini this evening whilst shopping for more workout gear.  She is a fairly avid fan of both animal prints and bikinis and was quite enthusiastic to dress me.  I, however, was more hesitant.  Sensing my reluctance, the CFC said to me, in the sweetest and most melodious voice to reach my ears, "You have to wear one this year, Mom.  You can now.  Because of all that exercising you do."  How could I refuse such a wonderful child?  Add in the fact that when I did my measurements this morning, my waist had gone in 1.5" and it was a no-brainer.

CFC was right.  I looked gooooood.  Six pack abs.  An actual waist.  I very much wanted to take this suit home with me.  Alas, due to "all that exercising" I do, I actually was in dire need of new (smaller) workout clothing and the budget does not allow for both necessary and frivolous on the same day.  I hated to return the bikini to its home, but I relished the knowledge that not only did it fit, it made me look AH-mazing. 

Yes, I exercise to be strong and fit.  I love the feeling I get when I'm sweating through TurboFire and ready to bust through the walls with my energy.  I am uberproud that I now do push ups on my toes and run insane amounts of miles every weekend.

But I gotta own up.  I rather enjoy the outer evidence of all the hard work I've been putting in.  I can't get away with running about town in a sports bra and compression shorts, no matter how much I sometimes wish I could.  When my new core catches my eye in the mirror, I can't ignore the chemistry.  I love my new self.  A lot.  So much so that every now and then I swear I hear the first few bars of "Stayin' Alive" when I walk through the living room.  My hips have an extra wiggle after a workout and I find myself lost in my biceps.  They say on average, we fall in love four times in our lives.  Well, I turned out to be one of those times for myself.  I am 99% sure Hubby is perfectly fine with that. 

After sizing myself up in that dressing room, it was incredibly easy to glide past the warm pretzel smell of Auntie Anne's.  I cared nothing for the caramel bars lurking in Gertrude Hawk or the myriad chips and crunchy snacks I enountered when we stopped for groceries.  The only thing going through my mind was how I'm going back to Old Navy in two weeks and buying that damn bathing suit.

Let's Call It Re-Decision

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's Half Full, Damn It.

I so lucked out today.  Hubby decided to work from home.  God decided to make the day gorgeous.  The babe decided to willingly nap.  Three good guys working together so brilliantly made my own decision incredibly easy.  I decided to take a quick jaunt around The Loop (our little 3-4 miler) and follow that up with an hour of gettin' bendy with Tony Horton (X Stretch day).  To add to my fitness glee, I donned my brand new running skirt to start breaking it in for next month's race.  No blister pain, very little joint/shin pain, and I managed to keep a 10 min/mile pace.  Hello, Today!  I <3 you!

Now, I sit and contemplate a salad with all the fresh and fabulous produce I grabbed at Wegmans last night and find myself (FINALLY!) craving a fully healthy meal.  Feta, tuna, cherry tomatoes, organic spinach, sweet onions...mmmm!  I've already downed my Shakeology for breakfast (today's recipe was Coconut Dream, and yes, that name is totally accurate).  Thinking about tossing together some Southern Unfried Chicken ala Runner's World (an instant family classic I discovered a few months back) for dinner with some fresh green beans on the side.

 It's just one of those days.  Where everything is falling into place and doing it so easily.  And when I am so high on my Fit Life that I feel positive every day will be like this from now on.  ...right...?

Yeah.  I know.  It could be like yesterday, when I found myself in jammies and dreaming of Reese's all day until I caved and ransacked the freezer for the hidden Easter stash.  Followed by that Snickers egg.  Oh, and two glasses of Skinny Girl Cosmos (but it was White Cranberry, so that counts as a fruit, right?).  I eeked out my Kenpo X and even managed to contain my shopping while at Wegmans (i.e. no crap found its way into my cart, despite the Werewolf's many attempts to put it there).  But I just wasn't feeling it.  Still, today freakin' ROCKS.  So let's focus on that, shall we?

I see tomorrow as a bright shiny plaything, filled with Core Synergistics and a smattering of TurboFire.  Heapings of fresh fruit.  Leftovers of tonight's amazing dinner.  I choose to believe the babe will once again be joyful and desirous of naps and whatever food I offer him on his little tray will be just what his little belly was craving.  The dogs will defecate in the yard, not in the house, and the cats will not try to trip me as I come down the stairs.  When the Bear and the Werewolf arrive home from school, they will ask what they can do to help out and they shall play peacefully together, because they treasure sibling time.  All will be light and all will be balanced.

And as the pigs fly overhead, I will rejoice in the fact that Gertrude Hawk caramel bars provide me with six pack abs.

Perhaps...perhaps I ought to just savor the moment, eh?  Bask in RIGHT NOW and get crackin' on that salad while my favorite playlist churns out great songs in the background...That, readers, sounds like a plan.  Let's get on that, shall we?

Any Publicity Is Good Publicity

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

Tell everyone. 

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

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

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

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

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

Quit Is A Four Letter Word

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

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

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

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

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...

There's An App For That

Oh, iPhone! How I love thee! With you by my side, I am never alone.  We play games, share old memories and create new ones.  You gently remind me to keep at my to-do list and follow through on my goals each day.  How did I manage to live so long without you?

 

Say what you will about overuse of technology.  Tell me how annoyed you are by the person chatting away through the checkout line, oblivious to the eye rolls of those around her (hey! I will take grown-up conversations whenever I can get them, thank you very much).  My love of my smartphone does not abate.  We share so much, iPhone and me.  She has aided me on my fitness journey every step of the way, from calorie counting to marathon training.  No matter what sort of guidance I needed, I soon discovered that there was indeed an app for that.  Here are my favorites.

1.  mapmyrun - I have all of my running stats in one place.  Awesome.  Even more awesome?  I can track each run in real time, and hear voice feedback informing me of my current pace and time (which makes my interval training tres easy).  When I finish, I have instant access to my workout info, so I can see how speedy I've become since my last outing.  I can then post my route and stats to Facebook and Twitter so everyone else knows how speedy I've become, because I know they've been waiting on pins and needles to find out.  Well, they don't have to wait!  Here it is!  Thank you, mapmyrun!  Also, I can go online to find local routes to match my mileage for the day, set workout goals, and find other friends using the app so we can brag to each other about how badass we are.

2.  RunCoachPro - I have a tailored walk/run marathon training program, complete with crosstraining days and pace runs.  I have charts and graphs to track my increasingly incredible progress, which is kind of like my gold star (I think we should all still be receiving gold stars for jobs well done, but this will have to do).  I can change my goals at any point and receive an entirely new schedule as well, which is applied right to my calendar for my convenience.  Now I have reminders every day (as if I needed them, but still...it's nice).

3.  myfitnesspal - Although I am active enough now that I don't feel quite so calorie-conscious, I still find myself curious about how much I'm actually burning during a given workout.  I can plug in virtually any of my exercises and get a rough number of calories burned.  It's another gold star (they sure do rack up, don't they?!?) and I like telling Hubby the unfathomable caloric burning heights I reach.  I also find it useful when we're on the road and forced to eat at a chain (*shudder*), as I can simply enter the name of any given spot and view a list of meals and their nutritional information, thereby making better choices.  And again, friends can link up and monitor each other's progress or lack thereof, leaving congratulatory comments or gentle reminders ("WHERE THE  HELL HAVE YOU BEEN???? YOU HAVEN'T LOGGED IN FOR THREE FREAKIN' DAYS!!!) for each other.  It's all about a positive support system!

4.  P90X - a Beachbody app at last!  Like RunCoachPro, I give it my start date and it autoprograms my workout schedule for the remainder of the program.  I can track Fit Test results, nutrition, before&after photos, and measurements to monitor my ever-amazing progress.  (Really, it is amazing.  I can do pushups without my knees touching the floor.  Soon, I'll add the clapping and one-armed versions, too.  Stay tuned for increased bragging.)  Now, I'm just waiting on a TurboFire app to really get my juices flowing.

The only app that could kick these down a notch would be my very own app - instant SweatItOut and event updates combined with results and stats and in-your-face catchphrases to get me motivated.  I suppose Facebook will serve for now. *sigh*

No matter what your fitness goals may be, I can guarantee you they have an app for that.  I mean, there still isn't an app to remove excess calories from chocolate cake or make it stop tasting so delicious, but I'm certain someone, somewhere is working their little brain around that.  Until then, total avoidance will have to suffice.

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...