Me, Myself, and I(ron)

Ah, anemia...just when I forget all about you, there you are, tugging at my ankles and weighing them down, laying your weight across my quads and my biceps, turning my shoulders and neck to lead.  I loathe you...

It's one of those on-again, off-again relationships, and I am so much happier and so much more me when it's off again.  I've been pretty religious about taking my iron supplements and eating more spinach than Popeye could fit in both biceps, but the last few days have seen me sliding ever-so-ungracefully out from beneath the covers and lurching through my day.  I wish I could say through my workouts, but today was my first sweat session in three days.  Just in case you're unaware, that's kind of unheard of around these parts.  This is a gal who likes to get her sweat on.

My plan had been to readjust to those pre-dawn workouts, pretty much my only guaranteed time to be all alone with Shaun T or grab an outdoor run.  My alarm goes off each day at 5:45; I immediately shut it off and commence staring at the ceiling, checking my Facebook notifications, and catching up on all those missed late-night talk shows I can no longer stay awake to watch.  I ponder reaching to my left and mixing my E&E to garner the required energy to simply start my day.  But it's too much most days.  And so I feel sad, a tad guilty, and still exhausted. 

The amount of sleep just doesn't matter.  I can sleep a little; I can sleep a lot.  I have become the Goldilocks of sleeping, but I still haven't found the "just right" amount when anemia slithers into bed.  If you've dealt with low iron, you know the feeling.  If you haven't, you're probably thinking, "She's just lazy."  And you can go right ahead and slap yourself in your smug little face, seeing as how my arm is too weary for me to do it.  This gal, right here, ain't lazy.  When it comes to putting laundry away (I have a strong aversion to returning anything to its rightful place) or retrieving the mail (all the way across the street? Why can't they just put it on my porch?), perhaps a tad.  But when we're talkin' workouts, running, lifting, sweating...I am anything BUT.  In fact, I push myself to make these sessions as tough as possible.  I live for this crap.  So anemia really pisses me the f#$k off.

Which is why today I forced myself to mix and drink that E&E and push through Cardio Power and Resistance.  I am so freaking amazing.  Not only did I manage to get through it, but I got through it with very few modifications.  I was a tad slower than usual, but I managed to eke out every move with proper form.  That's pretty balls-to-the-wall awesome, and I thank you for realizing that.  Could I have done it without E&E?  I really don't think so.  A slow walk would have been more my speed.  But with the E&E, anemia was my BITCH. 

So I vow that tomorrow morning, I will drink sooner and save Colbert, Stewart, and Handler for laundry sorting time (that's when I cart the clean clothes to my bedroom, spread them over my bed, and then sit down and watch tv and marvel at how quickly I have run out of time to actually sort the laundry).  That just leaves the question...who's workin' out with me tomorrow morning????

Bring Me A Dream...

I workout.  I eat (mostly) right.  I slather on my sunblock, buckle my seatbelt, and take the occasional mental health day far from people under voting age.  I'm an all-around, even keel kinda FitGal. 

Except for sleeping.

I should be doing it right now.  Yes, I am perfectly aware that it is bright and sunshiny and lunchtime.  It's also the babe's naptime; we were at HersheyPark all day yesterday; we did not arrive home until after midnight and I did not crash into slumber until after 2 a.m.  Oh - and that precious, darling, oh-so-bushytailed little bundle of JOY was up at 7:30.  It sucked, but I was already planning on catching up at naptime.

So what the hell is my problem, you ask?  I don't even freakin' know.  I have been drooling over this naptime all morning.  Chores have gotten about as much attention as the latest rerun of Yes, Dear and I even bypassed my usual morning coffee for fear the caffeine would hinder my shut-eye abilities.  I fed one kid Kashi GoLean with rice milk and the other Jolly Ranchers.  I ate two Doritos and a whole wheat cranberry bagel with peanut butter (so not a good combo).  I was - and still am - exhausted. 

I had it all set...the babe is napping in my bed, because he takes longer naps there.  I've got a good five previously viewed episodes of Cajun Justice all queued up, because there's something about that show that both interests and soothes me.  (Only The Golden Girls and Everybody Loves Raymond can compete for lullabies.)  The iPhone is set to silent and plugged into the dock.  The older monkeys are quietly absorbed in Barbies and Legos.  Just typing this makes my eyelids droop and my mouth drop open in a yawn.

Then I snuggle in next to the babe and my mind says things like, "Hey, did you let the dogs out? How was that workout you didn't do? Don't forget - you have a doctor's appointment this afternoon at an office you've never visited, you have to talk all three kids along, and you typically run late. Better not oversleep."

My mind is a bitch.  I tried reading.  I tried Words With Friends.  I tried imagining doing laundry and the dishes.  (Sometimes, just thinking about the energy required to do household chores has a Benadryl-like effect on my body.)  But my mind won't quit. 

And - I know I'm not alone here - I am always skimping on the sleep.  There is always one more chore to do, a few more minutes of a rescheduled workout to sweat through, one more chapter to read, one more episode to watch.  It seems women particularly are hardwired to keep pushing through, no matter the detriment to our bodies.  And here's the breakdown:

Lack of sleep can lead to an increased chance of heart disease/attack/failure, irregular heartbeat, high blood pressure, stroke, and diabetes.  It can slaughter your sex drive, make you look old, and deplete any remaining intelligence your children haven't already stolen.  Know what else?  Makes you fat. 

So all those late night workouts to make up for the missed morning sessions?  All those extra few moments preparing the next day's healthy meals traded for a few more moments of sleep?  Gonna be all for naught if you never actually SLEEP.  Plus, think about your eating habits when you're tired.  Might I remind you of my Dorito and bagel coupling mentioned above?  Point made.

So for the love of all that is Fit and Holy - GET SOME FREAKIN' SLEEP.  Figure out how to shut that nagging crone up (refraining from making sarcastic remarks about anyone I actually know because of course I'm simply referring to that inner voice...) and start making regular appearances in Dreamland, Neverland, WhereEVERland...Just close your eyes and snore.  Well, maybe not snore because that can be a sign of all sorts of issues, too.  But I'm too tired to write about those right now.

Oh - and might I add that lack of sleep turns this Queen into more of a Wicked Witch?  My family will attest to that.  They'll attest quickly and adamently and repeatedly.  We have all learned from past tirades and meltdowns - mine, not the children's - that I must issue the warning of "I am hungry and/or tired" in a relatively calm yet firm tone and that this warning must be immediately followed by everyone kissing my ass and providing me with food and/or a pillow.  Even FitGals run into walls from time to time; the key is allowing yourself to slide back down instead of rallying to climb over.

Trust me.  There will be more walls tomorrow.

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.