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.

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.

It's The Climb

 This is where I am at the end of the first interval of 99% of my training runs.  Within five minutes, I am far enough away from the main road to not hear traffic and far enough into my session to begin realizing how blessed I am to live where I do.  We may not have Starbucks or malls and we may have to drive more than 20 minutes to get anywhere...but look what we do have.  It's not a fair trade; we certainly claimed the long end of the stick.  At this point, I am more likely to run past fishermen than cars and am more likely to be alone than in the presence of fishermen.  It's a quiet beginning to a quiet run, just the way I prefer it.  If anything is going to throw me off on Sunday, it will be the chaos that accompanies every starting line.  Because from here, I move on to this:

More tranquility, more beauty, and even less signs of progress.  My usual company here consists of geese (although, those geese aren't always tranquil...) and the occasional farmer on his tractor.  If the stream is high enough and rapid enough, I like to lower the volume on my iPod so I can listen to the water rush by.  By the time I get here...

I am already feeling the zen of sneakers hitting asphalt, the evenness of my breathing, the energy pushing my legs faster.  To the right is the lake, where I'm likely to see more fishing enthusiasts and runners like myself.  This is when the rest of my world begins to fall away, when I forget about the laundry, any temper tantrums or bills to pay, and my mind shifts instead to what lies ahead.  Because from here, it's only a few miles to get to my favorite spot...

This is my treat, one I only get when I do distance training.  It's about ten miles out and if I want to go through here, I have to plan on at least two to three hours of run time.  I've previously described the "veggie portion" of my runs.  This is my double chocolate fudge cake, fresh out of the oven.  It's worth busting through any tiredness that tries to creep in to hear the gravel crunch under my feet and know that I have a good two miles to be snug in this trail before I re-enter the real world of painted lines and fast cars.  I swear, the best songs always play here and I do some of my clearest thinking along this path.  Many a blog entry has been formulated between these trees and many a problem solved.  If my race has any spots like this, I'll be golden come Sunday.

No matter how far I run or which route I take, I always start and finish on the same road, with the same hill.  Setting out, the downhill is a great warm up and spur to get my feet movin'.  Coming home...it is the bane of my existence.  There was a time, seven or so months ago, that I was barely able to walk back up.  It required everything I had to breathlessly climb this hill.  Now...I run it.  Slowly.  Awkwardly.  But I'm running.  This hill may not be the steepest I've encountered during my months of training, but it is the most symbolic.  I can't get around it.  This is the way home and the last few minutes of my run.  I can either make it count or I can decide my run is over at the base.  I decided long ago to make it count.  So while this picture may not seem impressive or beautiful to you...to me, it is a turning point not only in my physical strength, but my mental determination as well.  If I can conquer this hill after a 21+ mile run, I can certainly finish that marathon. 



Filling My Plate

Hey, how ya been? What's new? How's the family?  It's been too long! 

So, you may have noticed (or you may not have, but let's pretend you've been biting your nails with worry) that I haven't been posting for a few days.  The reasons are GOOD.  This fitness-lovin' gal has been busier than the proverbial bee.  I woke up to seven emails this morning, each one related to fitness and my Push goals for this year.  Now THAT is what I am talkin' ABOUT.

(Now, if you haven't been reading my posts or you've forgotten past entries, Push is a faboo book by Chalene Johnson.  If you are at a loss or wandering about in circles, this book is for you.  It's a map to squeezing the juice out of every. single. day.  Buy it.  Read it.  DO IT.) 

Anyway - my Push goals for the year included running marathons (the first is 12 days away!), contributing financially to my family (Beachbody coach), getting back into fitness as either a trainer or an instructor (I'll get to that in a moment!), and taking a vacation with Hubby sans kids (no true vacation planned yet, but we do have a full four days to ourselves at the end of this month).  It's all about the reverse engineering and planning out the daily steps to get the end result.  You're aware of my daily training, my weekly lengthy runs, my love of Beachbody.  And I'm about to make you aware of my need to teach.

In the years BC (Before Children), I was both a step aerobics instructor and a personal trainer.  I seriously loved my job.  I was paid to work out and share my love of fitness with others while they paid lots of attention to me.  Plus, there are mirrors literally EVERYWHERE in any gym, so I could pay lots of attention to me.  Everyone benefited.  I was an excellent and passionate trainer and instructor.  Clients were sad to see me go, but alas, I was moving back to my hometown and soon started baby production.  I didn't leave fitness behind, but I did turn my back on being the face of it for anyone aside from myself. 

Lucky you! Those days have passed!  Not only can you read my blog, follow me on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram - now I am available as a Trained QiDANCE Instructor!  I have my Foundation course under my belt and a meeting with a local aerboics studio on Friday to discuss gettin' this booty back to the front of the class.  ANOTHER GOAL is about to be knocked on its ass.  My awesomeness is beginning to amaze even me. 

Now you're likely excited and can't wait to sign up and work out with me, but I bet you're also thinking, "What the hell is QiDANCE?"  Um...it's awesome, too.  Think sexy dances, incredible music, and (as of Sunday) me as an instructor.  I love it for the same reasons I love TurboFire: it's a program that can be modified to the level of the participant, it's got serious booty movin' music, and it's incredibly FUN.  During the master class (about 1 hour long), I actually had such a kickass time that I was in shock when the end came.  No way that was an hour!  And now I have somewhere to put my enthusiasm!  I can physically interact with people!  WOOT!

And guess what?  When you reach one goal, you immediately feel not only capable but EXCITED to get to the next one.  Everything just starts falling into place.  Just this week, I have been contacted about Shakeology, TurboFire, ChaLEAN Extreme, and teaching classes.  I am still looking into that Exercise Science major.  And I'm researching various personal training certifications.  So I got that goin' for me.  Oh - and the bikini will be mine before the week is over.  That is some good stuff, right there.

What's on your plate this week?  Start a new program?  Eat more healthfully?  Read my blog and share it with your friends?  Tell me!  I wanna hear how fabulous you are, too!

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.

The Big 2-0

The Gear

So today was an actual scheduled rest day.  Lettin' those leg muscles relax and repair for tomorrow's big 20-miler.  I spent the morning hunting and gathering supplies (a girl must have her Gu and recovery drinks) and even snuck a new running shirt into the purchases (feeling pretty makes me faster).  I spent the afternoon calmly cleaning, folding laundry, snuggling with a sleepy babe, and helping the older monkeys primp and dress for their Grandparents Dance this evening.  The route is mapped; the fueling is planned and procured; the proper steps have been taken.  And, after all, it's just a training run.

But...twenty miles.  TWENTY.  MILES.  That's kind of a lot.  Since I started running longer distances, one of my new OCD quirks is to reset the trip odometer and find pride in knowing I've run longer distances than I typically drive.  I know the back roads around here now, because I have run them over and over again, slowly learning their intersections and loops.  I have run past the kids' old daycare, past our church, past the lake I long to fish in, up the mountain and back down, across the Delaware River and back...but TWENTY MILES suddenly seems a ginormous number. 

Before

So let's break it down.  Anything less than ten miles feels silly anymore.  So the first half of this run is a warm up, right?  Right.  I ran my Rock N Roll Half Marathon last year in 2:37.  Now I am typically at 14.5 miles in that time, still feeling quite strong and closing in on home.  At that point tomorrow, I will be on the verge of a fuel break, replenishing my water supply and eating an energy bar left on the front porch by Cheerleader Hubby.  Once the fuel belts have been swapped out, I am off for one last loop around the daycare and back - what I have come to view as a quick and easy run that averages anywhere from 1:15 to 1:30.  Assuming I keep my past pace, I ought to be done in just over four hours, with my usual pauses for stretching and Gu-ing.  Four hours, though a freakish time to some, doesn't sound bad at all.  I can do four hours.

During

Now that we have made everything sound so reasonable, let us not speak of that other number.  At least, not until it is under my belt and I am once again Fully Awesome and Ready To Brag.  If I set off at 6:00 am as planned, I ought to be Bragging by 10:30.  Log on, little Readers, and I will regale you with each step, song, stretch, and moment of doubt (to always be quickly followed by Moments of Greatness, naturally).  I know you'll be thinking of me tomorrow as I chug through the Water Gap, and perhaps you will be motivated to lace up your own running shoes.  Which would be FABULOUS, because then we can start signing up for races together.  I need more running partners.  Currently, I have only myself and my Ego (and that chick just keeps getting bigger all the time).

After

The Garage Of My Dreams

Ideally, my favorite place to sweatitout is outdoors, just me and my Ghosts and my iPod.  Hours melt away and my head gets clear and I see a glimmer of just how far I've come in my training.  But what about those days I can't, for various reasons (children, weather, children, time, children), get out of the house?  Sadly, for now I am stuck in my living room, alongside a defunct treadmill (which I must remember to call about), a dilapidated card table serving as my computer desk, a pack-n-play filled with toddler distractions, and a recliner (the last remnant of our actual living room furniture).  It is, to put it mildly, not the most motivational area in which to work out.  I do have a mirror in which I can watch the upper 1/4 of myself complete exercises, and my determined stare is difficult to resist.  But still, I dream of a day when I (meaning: Hubby) turns our stuffed-to-the-gills-with-crap garage into a wide open space of workout mats, weight sets, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors to reflect my perfect form (hey, I have to assume it's perfect on the bottom 3/4 as well).

I can lose lots of workout minutes browsing Pinterest for home gym ideas.  I love the idea of old lockers for storage and wire baskets for pristine white towels with which to mop my sweat.  I envision a brand new set of Selecttech weights (replacing the mismatched sets purchased piecemeal from WalMart and Target over the years) anticipating my gloved hands.  They rest next to my working treadmill, complete with iFit and Jillian's voice telling me to "Step it up!"  Of course, I will have motivational posters plastered over every non-mirrored inch of wall space to remind me of what I'm working toward, those well-muscled, glistening bodies of fit persons flexed next to all-caps phrases refuting any and all excuses.  Out my window, I'll see my Olympic sized swimming pool and running track...Okay, I may have to give those up for a plastic wading pool and the street, but the rest is completely doable! 

Not only would I finally have access to SPACE allowing me to go all out all the time, I would have access to SPACE AWAY FROM THE CHILDREN.  I love them, I really really do...but they have this habit of not needing me until they catch me in the middle of a TurboFire Fire Drill or mid-crunchy Frog during Ab Ripper X.  The rule of "Don't ask Mommy questions while Mommy is working out unless they relate to your blood flow" never seems to quite sink into their adorable little heads.  They deem Dad unfit for settling fights over who must bathe first (it really doesn't matter which it is; they always want the opposite) or what the reading assignment is for bedtime (although it never changes).  Nor can Dad tell them where exactly to find their suddenly much desired Silly Putty, charm bracelet, or 3D glasses.  Only Mom can answer these riddles, and apparently, only in the midst of intense exercise.  Moments before I press play, I can say their names 100 times or tell them to complete their chores and receive no answer.  The moment I finish my cool down, they have no use for me.  It seems I am just as appealing to them as I am to myself during those sweaty breathless moments of P90X.  I suppose I can't really blame them, but still...I yearn for my own private garage-gym, paces away from the chaos of the mini M&M's.

Right now, I have forced the older boys into cleaning the aftermath of the hurricane that localized in their bedroom; my daughter lies in my bed with a cough and headache, quietly watching Sponge Bob; and the toddler is just about to go down for his own nap.  Whilst I have them all occupied, I plan to quietly slip into some spandex, mix up some E&E, and groove with Shaun T...until they catch me in my illicit activities...

The Accountability Department

I like fun workout words - sweat! jump! dance! run! push!  Action words, verbs, movers and shakers are what get me going.  Words like accountability don't typically enter my vocabulary unless I'm discussing household chores with my children (for the thousandth time today).  Accountability is a word dressed in an ill-fitting brown suit and mustard-colored necktie, maybe listening to Muzak or proofreading last year's reports on the price of generic toilet paper while lecturing me about buckling down and straightening up and flying right.  *YAWN*

But, accountability does make some good points.  Not much would get done without it.  Every organization needs a stickler to make things work, so make room in your otherwise good timin' brain for an accountability department.  You need that little voice to remind you why you're waking up at a time that is perfectly good for sleeping; why you, when everyone else is snuggling deeper into pillows and blankets, are lacing up your shoes to do those action words mentioned above.

As for myself, I have found I am getting pretty good at holding myself accountable.  I know when I'm making lame excuses ("the laundry needs folding," "I'd better check Facebook one more time," or "this needs eaten before it goes bad") and when I need to kick my own ass into gear.  I have also learned that the more I broadcast my intent, the more accountable I feel.  Failure only I know about is one thing; failure everyone can witness is quite another.  Now, I am sure not everyone in my social media world is keeping track of my workouts and nutrition, but I know for certain that a few people notice a few things.  That's enough for me.  I said I was going to do P90X and HipHop Abs and train for a marathon.  So that's what I'm doing.  I log onto my networks when I press play (and it's not just for bragging rights - that's what events are for).  It is my proof.  I said I was gonna, and I am. 

Even this blog holds me accountable.  One of my Push goals (side note: get yourself a copy of Chalene Johnson's Push and do what she says) was to write every day in order to keep track of my progress and just to get back to writing.  Now that people are actually beginning to read it, I know I need to keep putting it out there.  It is part of my routine now, just as exercising is.  See, the great thing about accountability is that it takes the decision out of the equation.  You set a goal and you accomplish it.  The Dwight Schrute of your brain will tell you what to do if you just follow along.  Before you know it, you don't even need accountability.  Working out and training become as much a part of your day as brushing your teeth, getting the kids off the bus, or taking the dogs outside.  It's no longer a struggle; it just is.

So who/what is your accountability?  Why haven't you broadcasted your goals to everyone you know?  I share each one with hundreds of people on a daily basis, even though I'm pretty sure the guy I used to go to kindergarten with doesn't really care that my pushups are coming along so nicely.  But - I can certainly pretend that each and every one of my online friends - from old classmates to friends of friends I've met only virtually - are anxiously awaiting my next account of fitness miraculousness.  And I can promise you this: if you let me in on your goals, I will be watching your every workout move and counting each bead of sweat.  In a totally noncreepy, nonstalkerish way...

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...

Excuses vs. Reality

I am willing to bet that you made a New Year's Resolution, and I am willing to bet that resolution had something to do with your health.  Maybe you had a specific number of pounds or inches to lose, a size you wanted to reach, a diet to change, or an exercise routine to begin.  My question to you is: HOW FAR HAVE YOU GOTTEN?

If you're like OldMe, not very far.  The shine dulled on those resolutions by mid-February, when the days are short and dark and cold.  There's always an excuse as to why fitness goals simply do not fit into your current lifestyle.  I know, because I used to cuddle those excuses like new puppies, and I made sure I showed them off the same way.  So people would know I wasn't weak and a quitter, just "unable."  (Picture me now, rolling my eyes and smirking at OldMe and her lazy ways.)

The number one excuse: "I don't have the time."  Do you have the time to be sick? Do you have extra years of life you just don't want to use? I didn't think so.  If you wait for the time to appear, it's never going to happen.  You MAKE the time, you don't find it.  I am a mother to four, one of whom is just over a year.  I do not work outside the home, but honey, you better believe I WORK in it.  My day does not stop until my head hits the pillow.  Working out has become my sanity saver, so I make time for it Every. Single. Day.  Whether it's before everyone wakes up or after they've gone to bed; whether I find a stolen hour during Sesame Street or during naptime; whether I am running alone or walking behind a stroller, I MAKE THE TIME.  My family is happier for it, because if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.  And I am happier for it, because I have more energy to devote to everyone else, more patience to give them, and more love to give myself.

Then there's the odd excuse of "I'm not fit enough to do a workout." Um...okay...How do you suppose you will get fit enough to exercise?  As far as I can tell, the only way to do so is to begin. Walk.  Lift.  Dance.  Stretch.  Build up.  Not everyone needs an "extreme" routine, but everyone needs a routine.  Fitness grows with you and your goals will too.  I started running last summer and found it a major accomplishment to complete two miles at a 3:2 interval.  Now, I'm a running goddess who considers two miles a warm up.  A year ago, a marathon seemed like too much and I wasn't remotely interested.  Now, I get butterflies in running shoes every time I contemplate May 20 (the date of my first marathon).  People change, fitness changes them.  Trust me on this one.

"Health food has no taste."  Then you're not doing it right.  Plain and simple.  I drink chocolate deliciousness every morning for breakfast - gluten free, made-from-whole foods, low-glycemic-index chocolate deliciousness!  Shakeology is the proof in the pudding - almost literally - that healthy does not equal tasteless.  And there are sooooo many recipes for tangy, spicey, tastey, tastebud-thrilling foods that I refuse to even speak of this excuse any further (see my photo of whole wheat cranberry scones above? There's your thousand words.)   Next topic!

"It's too expensive to buy healthy foods."  I actually agree, but that's life.  Plus, think of the cash saved on doctor's visits, OTC meds, and pounds of junk food that won't fill you up.  No lie, I drink one shake at breakfast, and my normally bottomless pit is sated for a good two to three hours.  I toss together a healthy snack, and I am satisfied again.  When I was noshing on candy bars, donuts, and Weis dessert bowls, I would garner one of two results.  I would either a) feel incredibly nauseous due to the overabundance of fats and sugars I had just inhaled or b) still be starving and thus inhale more fats and sugars until I felt so nauseous I had to stop.  A pleasant side effect to cutting out (mostly - I still stray from time to time, but find I don't enjoy it quite as much) the empty calories is that much of my daily irritation has been cut out as well.  My blood sugar no longer crests and plummets seemingly at will.  I don't need caffiene to stave off headaches.  Again, Mama is happier and that equals a happier M&M Clan.

Give me an excuse, and I will give you a reason it sucks.  Today's blog is about tough love, people.  I don't wanna hear why you can't; I wanna hear why you WILL.  Forget resolutions, forget life overhauls.  Make small changes every day.  You didn't turn into a lounging mass of sugar in a day.  I bet you've worked on it every day for years.  My own formation into starchy inactivity was a gradual but steady decline, just as my climb back to fitness has been.  Now, I'm firmly entrenched.  This gal ain't goin' back.  Been there, done that.  Hated it. 

What got me motivated? I was tired of being tired.  I was exhausted with negative self-image.  I was so over wasting energy envying every fit person passing by.  I could either continue down a path that was all wrong for me, or I could stop making pitiful excuses and choose a new direction.  I warned you: I am a born-again fitness enthusiast and I will be annoyingly chipper about it.  You can either be annoyed or become annoying.  (Psssst! It's a lot more fun on this side!)



"Before" Photos - Because without them, you can't have the "After" photos...

There is a good reason you've decided to start working out, and chances are that reason is something you want to keep hidden, perhaps with baggy sweatpants and long butt-covering tops. So who in their right mind would take a "before" photo and actually share it with other people? Well, I have...and I swear, despite what you may have heard, I am reasonably sane.
Those "befores" can be great motivation. When shared, they are a commitment statement, an advertisement to your world that you are starting a new lifestyle. As for myself, I shudder at the thought that those would be the last anyone would see of my midriff. So I keep on pressing play, crunching and jumping six nights a week. I drink my Shakeology every day and monitor what goes into my body. And I know that soon (hopefully within the next few weeks), I will have the "afters" I'm proud to share (and I'll be busting out the belly-baring tops packed away since 1998. To hell with fashion when I've got actual abdominal muscles to showcase!).

And really, how can you brag about your progress if you don't have the proof? I want to point at my befores and say, "Can you believe that was me? I have come so far, it's incredible."
I also find more inspiration from seeing others' transformations, be it from P90X, TurboFire, or HipHop Abs. It pumps me up for my workouts and gives me fuel to keep pushing as hard as I must to get the results I lust after. So maybe, if I keep going, I can inspire someone else to start living a Fit Life and find the energy, passion, and exhiliration I have discovered in the last year.

So, suck it up, not in, and take disturbingly honest "befores." You'll be on your way to your awesome "afters" in no time!

Just Do It

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