My Bucket Runneth Over

Everyone's always talking, pinning, writing about their Bucket Lists.  I think I even made one myself after I saw the movie, but can't remember much of what went on it.  I vaguely recall returns to skydiving, New Orleans, and Savannah - but there had to be more to it than that, right?  I mean, where's the marathons?  The mud races? OH, RIGHT.  That was way back before my FitLife.  Looks like it's time for a revamp. 

So what's my Bucket List look like now?  Full to overflowing, I'd say.

1.  Complete the Tinkerbell Half Marathon in DisneyWorld, dressed in full costume.  Because I love that little smartass fairy.
2.  Complete the ToughMudder and the Spartan without doing any burpees, because I hate those little smartass moves.
3.  Try my hand at freelancing, because people love reading my smartass blog posts.
4.  Get my certifications in order and create a fitness empire.  (I'm done with the smartass theme now.)
5.  Turn Hubby into a fitness-lovin' machine.  I know he's got it in him somewhere.
6.  Run a 5k with my kids.  Not stroll through downtown Philly or Bethlehem, but actually run.  Without complaints.  Or whining.  Okay, this may be the most difficult item to cross off my list.
7.  Go white water rafting.
8.  Learn to ski properly and perhaps even give snowboarding a go.
9.  Take some fitness classes - hot yoga, martial arts, you name it, I wanna do it.
10.  Corral these lovely little posts into coherent essays and put 'em in a book.

And that's just a TASTE of my goals.  I sat down to write this list and thought, "What would I try if I knew I couldn't fail?"  Here's ten things.  And every one of 'em gets my blood pumpin' and my adrenal glands goin'.  Why?  Because they all involve some form of fitness - whether its mental or physical.  A year ago, I wouldn't have imagined I would be able to do the things I now do on a daily basis.  So I'm learning that there's no reason to limit myself.  What fun are limitations anyway?

The down-and-dirty of it is a simple daily to-do list.  Pick one of these, break it down into little itty bitty goals, and suddenly - the scary is not to be found.  The impossible has turned into I AM POSSIBLE.  (Would you like some cheese on your blog today? Why, yes, thank you!)  Sometimes, the focus is lacking.  I'm the first to admit day-to-day can muscle in on the lofty dreams of even this most dedicated FitGal.  I can blame the kids, the pets, the anemia, the house...but really, at the center of the blame game, it's just me.  I choose how to allot the majority of my time (some things can't be helped, like ER trips for splinters in a werewolf's butt - true and funny story, but for another time).  So if my dreams aren't getting closer, that's on me. 

I started this blog back in February, I believe.  That first post was frightening.  Putting it out there with the assumption that people would want to read anything I wrote seemed cocky, plus what if it wasn't good, wasn't entertaining?  I know.  I'm laughing at my February Self, too.  OF COURSE it was good.  OF COURSE it was entertaining.  That's why we're still here together, right?  Because I just get wittier and more motivating EVERY SINGLE DAY.  What's my point, you ask?  (As if I needed one.  It's my blog, after all.  Sheesh.)  My point is this: you forge past the intimidating and accomplish one goal, suddenly the others don't seem so far out of reach.  In fact, they downright look like nosy next-door neighbors peering in your front windows, they're so close. 

Invite 'em in, take the scary out.  They may be crazy, sure, but that's half the fun.  And I so don't want to be lying on my bed at age 99 wondering what else I could have done.  I want to be too busy pushing through to notice that my face was just plastered on the Morning Show for making it 100.

Ask Not What Your Body Can Do For You...

Let's talk body image.  Because, let's face it, that's a core reason and motivator for more than a few of us.  How many times have you scrutinized your nearly or completely naked body in the mirror, pinching and pulling real or imagined flab?  Turning from one side to the other, sucking in, letting it all hang out, sucking in again and standing taller?  I feel pretty certain that I'm not the only one guilty of self-criticizing.  I also feel fairly safe in my assumption that I'm not the only one who has walked away from this situation with less than fond feelings for my body.  So, why do we do this to ourselves? 

I don't want to hear that society is to blame - though it is at least partly to fault.  We're all grown ups now, and somewhere along the road to adulthood, we've all picked up minds of our own.  At least, most of us have.  Now, it is our choice how we view ourselves and our decision what sort of bodies we will have.  I'm not saying we can all decide to have Heidi Klum's body (I bet she wants to keep it).  What I am saying is that we can have sit-on-the-couch-and-scarf-Cool-Ranch-Doritos bodies or sweat-it-out-and-flex-those-muscles bodies.  I've had both, and let me tell ya, I much prefer the latter. 

I know that no matter how hard or how much I work out, I will never be a size 2.  These hips were meant for birthing and they ain't goin' anywhere now that I've decided the birthing has stopped.  What I do know is that I can strengthen my muscles and condition my lungs so I can run faster, jump higher, and lift heavier.  I can make my heart pump more efficiently and keep myself around longer.  I can enter half marathons, full marathons, and mud races as often as I please and finish them!  Two years ago, I could not say that of this body, but oh, how the times have changed!

I was once a hard partyin' kinda gal, chainsmoking and binge eating my way through life, and my body had no qualms about reminding me of its abuse.  Stairs stole my breath and sometimes simply making it through a workday at a desk stole my energy.  I used to watch my kids play outside while I stole a quick P-Funk.  I ain't gonna lie; I cringe when I think about OldMe.  Just the smell of cigarettes makes me slightly nauseous now; I cannot begin to think what taking a puff would do.  Ugh...moving on...

Fast forward to now...me, smokefree for over two years and living a Fit Life for over one.  Stairs shmairs.  I still have days when I'm weary, but I can generally attribute that to needing iron (anemia is often a source of fatigue for me, but that's what leafy greens and steak are for).  And I believe we discussed what I do when I think I may be too tired to finish a workout...

Also, I refuse to be depressed about my size or shape anymore.  This body produced three amazing babies and this body allowed me to carry them in my arms and on my shoulders, bounce them on my knee, and push them on swings.  This body takes me on meditative hours-long runs and sweats through exhilirating Beachbody classes.  This body will be hauling me through a Spartan this summer and Tough Mudder the following summer.  This body will allow me my first real run on the beach during family vacation and help me coach my daughter's cheerleading squad in the fall.  I have found that the harder I push myself, the better my body responds, rewarding me with increased energy, stronger muscle, and lasting endurance. 

Plus - who do I want my daughter to grow into?  An insecure yet thin girl counting calories, bypassing experiences and tastes for fear of bloating?  Or a strong and fit champion counting victories and accomplishments, facing challenges head on?  I don't think I even need to share my answer. 

Now, I could have opted to simply cut calories and be thin.  After all, weight loss was my number one goal when I began this journey.  But thin is no longer the reward.  I want medals around my neck and quality moments in my life more than I want smaller clothing in my closet. 

Of course, I enjoy the side effect of looking totally fabulous as a result of these newfound goals.  But it's the icing on the cake, and anyone who knows me knows that I couldn't care less about the icing, but I'll take a great big ol' bite outta that cake.

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

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

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

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

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