I've had quite the anxious flare the past few days. To combat, it's distraction, distraction, distraction and working out is always at the top of my list with that. The transition to my new obsession, 9 Rounds kickboxing, was much easier and more positive than I had originally imagined.
9 Rounds is a new phenomenon of 30 minute kickboxing circuits, 3 minutes each round, and there are no class times, you just go during operating hours and start at the bell. I'm that weirdo who needs a 5AM workout block or maybe 5:30AM at least. I'm a working mom who commutes a good 40 minutes, if not longer, and I need to get my stuff done EARLY because summoning the energy after 6PM is often impossible.
I can't lie, it really helps to punch things. Ironically when we first moved to WestChase about 8 years ago, we were one block away from the newest kickboxing fad, and of course now the name escapes me, but I was desperate to join. Hubby was convinced I'd hurt myself and it was also crazy expensive. Now I found a place that works for the budget, the time and is the stuff of my workout dreams. Did I also mention no running? I love to not run.
Today, on Good Friday, I have a miraculous day off filled with Easter errands and even a little fun. As part of Florida life the forecast is completely horrifying and I'm sure will include rain and thunderstorms, but I will not be deterred.
Somehow my mom ingrained in me this weird routine on me from my childhood of Peeps, new socks, new underwear, and a bathing suit in my Easter Basket. I'm one of the few people on this planet that actually enjoy Peeps. My daughter will be getting similar things, between my mom and I but is obsessed with chocolate so I definitely have to go get those supplies today.
This morning I was able to get my daughter ready for after care myself, pack her lunch, and drop her off, which is not something that happens often. I was also able to guest star at my former, new and re-designed, boot camp for a volleyball court sandy workout, after I had already done 30 minutes at 9 Rounds. I was pretty proud of me.
Currently I am blogging in my favorite local bakery, awaiting a breakfast date, before hitting the mall later with another friend and then dinner after I pick up my little one, bathe her and get her ready for Grandma time. It ended up being a very full day in the best way.
These are the days where I feel I can thrive well and mentally reboot because, I repeat, distraction, distraction, distraction. Pinpointing the anxiety triggers can be as exhausting as the anxiety itself, but sometimes it really helps me to sift through, even the most uncomfortable parts of it all.
When I was younger I used to write poetry or do a lot of painting and now time gets in the way of those things often. This blog has become my most productive, albeit diatribe-y use of my time for letting some things out into the universe.
Sometimes I'm kind of hard to explain to people. Often, I'm not fully "gotten" by people. I had a friend ask me about going to Good Friday service which is about 30 minutes away from our home at our church. Last year I tried with my daughter and I carried her out of there screaming and punching me. She was the only kid in attendance and they had no daycare. Also, the Good Friday stations of the cross stuff is slightly severe for little ones. I loathed this time of year when I was in Catholic School; the stations took hours!
Not only did I forget that today was actually Good Friday in that sense but to drive up there for a 6ish service and then home sounded exhausting and, by default, was the only Friday I could get my mom to babysit for a night out with a friend I'd been trying to connect with for a month. Sometimes you gotta do you instead of get stuck in what you "should" do. Besides, I'll be there like a good churchgoer on Sunday.
Most of my days feel like a routine of Workout, Errands/Work, be a Mom and repeat and some are more successful than others. I work hard not to overdue it but know I need to get out and be social and coexist more often.
I'm able to kick my anxiety, in some ways, when I workout often, have good interactions with good friends, and get myself away from having time to "obsess and mentally wander." Working out extra makes me so tired that I can't stay up overthinking and over analyzing and I'm also often too tired to eat my feelings aka binge on Oreos and junk out of stress.
Mom stuff goes both ways. Sometimes I feel like this together, competent, attentive mom. Sometimes I feel like I'm one step away from an evil queen in a Disney movie locking someone away in a tower. It just depends on the day.
I'm so lucky that my job doesn't leave me to carry too much stress around with me outside of the office, so rarely does my anxiety get me there but more so in the calm or down time. I'll find my way again and we all get into a funk but I think it's important to get yourself out of said funk on your own if at all possible.
I tend to thrive best in the comfort of certain cohorts, with excess workouts, a little meal planning, a little splurging, and a lot of time to mentally reboot and sleep. Often I take a huge step back from social media but with blog promotion, that's tough but it's something I'm very much considering right now. The blog would still be posted daily but the daily updates on Facebook and Insta would take a pause.
For today with the impending stormy weather, I'm ready to storm into my tasks and take names. I'm pretty determined to make this into very much a Good Friday if not even a great one. Have a wonderful holiday weekend readers and I will report back tomorrow on whether or not today was as designed!
Showing posts with label boot camp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boot camp. Show all posts
Friday, April 19, 2019
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
Last Year At This Time...What A Transition
I fight with Facebook a lot. Some days it is trigger city and other days I can appreciate it. I've taken it, and messenger completely off my phone all for the better. As I've said before, I much prefer Instagram, as I think Instagram is a more positive environment for someone like me, but this morning Facebook for "On This Day," brought up selfie from a year ago. Creepily enough I'm wearing the exact same shirt but now I have much longer hair. I'm also not nearly as tired looking. This is the comparison shot:
This day, 2018 Today, 2019
I spent some time last week discussing comparisons of some then and now. What my marriage was then, versus now. Behavior then, versus now. We were spanning all different kinds of time frames and I said that comparing like that could be okay, even helpful in some arenas, but was also huge trigger territory.
That picture was taken just before the beginning of the worst being turned into something good, but something I could have never foreseen. In March of 2018, I tried to stand up for myself and take some of my life back. I knew I had lost my way and decided it was time to be a better mother, better person, and better household pillar, to say the least.
I was stopped dead in my tracks with every indication of "No," without being told the actual words "no." My efforts were detoured completely and I felt defeated and inferior.
I had planned to do two hours of boot camp each morning to get back into shape when my husband decided to take a second job. As finances will always cause us friction, his reasoning was, "we always need more money, you're always saying we can't afford stuff." It was not an unfair point, but I was reluctant. I sucked up all my opposition and upset, all of my judgments about the decision and negative feelings and said "okay."
It was the worst month and a half we've had in a long time, and one that completely broke me down to the point of making unfair choices and decisions, and of taking a stand for my daughter, and for myself.
In that month I watched my husband struggle and spiral out of control. Suddenly the new job meant he needed a car. Suddenly his friend had a car for him to procure at a fair price, which wasn't worth any form of "waiting" or negotiation. It was "take the car to my mechanic, get the okay" and drive away with new wheels into the sunset. We had successfully car-shared for 9 years and couldn't afford two vehicles, but this wasn't up for discussion in all this. For me, it was the cart before the horse and I was internally screaming and physically sobbing through the stress.
The car, to me, was the catalyst. Once the taste of freedom came, it was too good to be true and I watched as it snowballed. His second job was from 6AM to 12PM then he'd work from 1PM to midnight or later. This was all some seemingly weird power play to prove his worth at his current job, but to threaten that he could leave at any time.
Because he had to work at 5AM I was stripped of my Boot Camp routines, which crushed me. I'd been taken away from having any time to work out. My trainer knew how much I needed Boot Camp and let me come in from 4:45AM to 5:15AM before anyone else really arrived to complete the daily workout. It was brutal. And I missed normalcy. I did everything alone from getting my daughter fed and ready, making lunches, dropping her off and then some. It was difficult, lonely and had levels of unfriendly feelings coming at me regularly.
I think I cried at least once a day. When he got the car I had to hide my meltdown. It wasn't that he wasn't "allowed" to have one. It was that we couldn't afford it, even with a second job. And not being able to have that rational conversation was upsetting to me.
I remember taking that selfie and feeling so tired and broken and just thinking, "Okay so this is just my life now. This is what's in front of me." True to form I cried in private and hid everything away. My mom was helping us with transportation before the new-to-him car appeared and was also complaining and frustrated with everything, taking it out on me.
I hit my final wall at 3AM on a dark night with my little girl right next to me telling me it would all be okay. I'd hit the point of "shit or get off the pot," for lack of a better phrase. I stood up, firm and wasn't about to hear "no" this time. I put my foot down and finally had my say.
The second job faded as soon as he got a salaried position at his current job, the means to an end I guess. It was then that I took my life back. In May, I set up new childcare for the summer, which would involve hubby taking my daughter every morning, and he'd never taken her to school or childcare before.
I then commissioned my mom to do two evenings a week allowing me to hit the new gym I'd signed up for, in addition to my boot camp being back in full swing.
I look at that picture of me being a tired, mom and soldier and I feel so bad for 2018 Alison. Man, you went through some shit, and mostly alone. My soul looks beaten to hell in that selfie, but my head was still held high and the ferocity was waning. Damn did I prevail, though.
It was honestly more than just that month, it was so many years coming to fruition in the culmination of one, really horrible month. It was all very well dressed in "okayness." It was the epitome of my life as I knew it and I just had that Queen Daenerys Targaryen moment of "I'm going to break the wheel." If I could have used my dragons to set things on fire, I would have. It was time for the "new world."
This day, 2018 Today, 2019
I spent some time last week discussing comparisons of some then and now. What my marriage was then, versus now. Behavior then, versus now. We were spanning all different kinds of time frames and I said that comparing like that could be okay, even helpful in some arenas, but was also huge trigger territory.
That picture was taken just before the beginning of the worst being turned into something good, but something I could have never foreseen. In March of 2018, I tried to stand up for myself and take some of my life back. I knew I had lost my way and decided it was time to be a better mother, better person, and better household pillar, to say the least.
I was stopped dead in my tracks with every indication of "No," without being told the actual words "no." My efforts were detoured completely and I felt defeated and inferior.
I had planned to do two hours of boot camp each morning to get back into shape when my husband decided to take a second job. As finances will always cause us friction, his reasoning was, "we always need more money, you're always saying we can't afford stuff." It was not an unfair point, but I was reluctant. I sucked up all my opposition and upset, all of my judgments about the decision and negative feelings and said "okay."
It was the worst month and a half we've had in a long time, and one that completely broke me down to the point of making unfair choices and decisions, and of taking a stand for my daughter, and for myself.
In that month I watched my husband struggle and spiral out of control. Suddenly the new job meant he needed a car. Suddenly his friend had a car for him to procure at a fair price, which wasn't worth any form of "waiting" or negotiation. It was "take the car to my mechanic, get the okay" and drive away with new wheels into the sunset. We had successfully car-shared for 9 years and couldn't afford two vehicles, but this wasn't up for discussion in all this. For me, it was the cart before the horse and I was internally screaming and physically sobbing through the stress.
The car, to me, was the catalyst. Once the taste of freedom came, it was too good to be true and I watched as it snowballed. His second job was from 6AM to 12PM then he'd work from 1PM to midnight or later. This was all some seemingly weird power play to prove his worth at his current job, but to threaten that he could leave at any time.
Because he had to work at 5AM I was stripped of my Boot Camp routines, which crushed me. I'd been taken away from having any time to work out. My trainer knew how much I needed Boot Camp and let me come in from 4:45AM to 5:15AM before anyone else really arrived to complete the daily workout. It was brutal. And I missed normalcy. I did everything alone from getting my daughter fed and ready, making lunches, dropping her off and then some. It was difficult, lonely and had levels of unfriendly feelings coming at me regularly.
I think I cried at least once a day. When he got the car I had to hide my meltdown. It wasn't that he wasn't "allowed" to have one. It was that we couldn't afford it, even with a second job. And not being able to have that rational conversation was upsetting to me.
I remember taking that selfie and feeling so tired and broken and just thinking, "Okay so this is just my life now. This is what's in front of me." True to form I cried in private and hid everything away. My mom was helping us with transportation before the new-to-him car appeared and was also complaining and frustrated with everything, taking it out on me.
I hit my final wall at 3AM on a dark night with my little girl right next to me telling me it would all be okay. I'd hit the point of "shit or get off the pot," for lack of a better phrase. I stood up, firm and wasn't about to hear "no" this time. I put my foot down and finally had my say.
The second job faded as soon as he got a salaried position at his current job, the means to an end I guess. It was then that I took my life back. In May, I set up new childcare for the summer, which would involve hubby taking my daughter every morning, and he'd never taken her to school or childcare before.
I then commissioned my mom to do two evenings a week allowing me to hit the new gym I'd signed up for, in addition to my boot camp being back in full swing.
I look at that picture of me being a tired, mom and soldier and I feel so bad for 2018 Alison. Man, you went through some shit, and mostly alone. My soul looks beaten to hell in that selfie, but my head was still held high and the ferocity was waning. Damn did I prevail, though.
It was honestly more than just that month, it was so many years coming to fruition in the culmination of one, really horrible month. It was all very well dressed in "okayness." It was the epitome of my life as I knew it and I just had that Queen Daenerys Targaryen moment of "I'm going to break the wheel." If I could have used my dragons to set things on fire, I would have. It was time for the "new world."
What's even better is this "new world," and new cycle with a broken wheel rather than a stopped one, is still so new. It often feels new and fragile. But you look at that picture of last year versus this year and not just the hair has changed. Okay, yes I also got glasses, but there is a part of me that can't help see the transition within me. Like, look at the ferocity coming back and that air of resilience; everything I've been writing about!
I've been feeling mentally heavy and exhausted lately but it pales in comparison to last year. What an amazing reminder! Think of what I've overcome and look at the growth outside of the hair length! It's kind of impressive! I'm not saying this to brag or gloat, I'm just saying that we often don't realize it until we see a selfie like that. It's hard to see such change until these things happen to fall onto our "timeline," or "timehop" or whatever.
Since Friday I've struggled with staying grateful and just how wobbly I've felt with general life goings on. That selfie coming up, is just such a gift. It showed me that I am in fact progressing as a work in progress and that while I've felt so impotent in my ability to speed things up and keep pushing, I'm working at it better than I think I am.
A year really can do a lot for a person. You see those quotes and pin them and post them but no, LOOK, just look at that picture again. A year can do more than you can ever imagine. I'm not even about to say "things are just so much better now." We are far off from blanket statements like that, but I can say that the growth and transition is palpable, and I'm so glad I saw it in the flesh more accurately.
For those of you feeling stuck or like you haven't accomplished what you thought you should, comb through some pictures and it may help you see the transition. It's not all cupcakes and rainbows. I'm not healed, cured or "everything is perfect now," but I'm much better off. Sure I'm still as sassy as ever but I really think the then and now says it all.
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Bye Bye Boot Camp; The End Of An Era
On February 1st, 2014 I started my journey with Boot Camp at Bayside. We were living in Westchase and I was, for lack of a better word, overweight. My daughter had just celebrated her 1st birthday and I was ready to get my fitness back.
I used to LOVE the YMCA, and I tried to go back, but unfortunately I had a bad experience with their daycare, and I needed to find something to do when my husband was home. At this time, I was working from home, overnights between 12AM and 6AM. I was usually only scheduled from about 12 to 3 or 4, so I had time before my husband left for work at 10AM or 12PM to make sure I could sneak in a workout before he left or even better, before the baby got up.
I was super active on Facebook in groups like Westchase Swap and Shop and Westchase Garage Sale, so I started looking for an alternative to some expensive gym with not great class times and someone suggested Boot Camp at Bayside, hosted just over the Oldsmar bridge in wonderful, Safety Harbor. I messaged the person in charge and he said they were having a Saturday workout to come and try it, see if it fits.
So, the day of my daughter's 1st birthday party, I went at 7AM to try it out. I could barely keep up and had multiple wardrobe malfunctions; I was not used to fitness including "mom boobs." I made it through and was invited to come right back on Monday morning at 6:15AM. We took this picture at her party that same afternoon when the soreness was kicking in.
I used to LOVE the YMCA, and I tried to go back, but unfortunately I had a bad experience with their daycare, and I needed to find something to do when my husband was home. At this time, I was working from home, overnights between 12AM and 6AM. I was usually only scheduled from about 12 to 3 or 4, so I had time before my husband left for work at 10AM or 12PM to make sure I could sneak in a workout before he left or even better, before the baby got up.
I was super active on Facebook in groups like Westchase Swap and Shop and Westchase Garage Sale, so I started looking for an alternative to some expensive gym with not great class times and someone suggested Boot Camp at Bayside, hosted just over the Oldsmar bridge in wonderful, Safety Harbor. I messaged the person in charge and he said they were having a Saturday workout to come and try it, see if it fits.
So, the day of my daughter's 1st birthday party, I went at 7AM to try it out. I could barely keep up and had multiple wardrobe malfunctions; I was not used to fitness including "mom boobs." I made it through and was invited to come right back on Monday morning at 6:15AM. We took this picture at her party that same afternoon when the soreness was kicking in.
I made it back Monday for a workout called "Island Party" and there was no party about it. I pushed myself, but my trainer eventually cut me off from all the running laps. It was grueling and hard, but the great thing about Boot Camp was it was a workout for every fitness level. You had moms like me, guys that were super athletic and didn't want to deal with the gym, runners, cross-fit fans, and everything in between.
I was a good 50 pounds heavier than when I got pregnant and I'd never been so big. It was time to get to work. It was not an easy 3 month start, but what was great was you started to get to know the people you worked out with too. It was a whole different thing than the gym. I spent the first year of Boot Camp in the 6:15 class and my trainer introduced me to something called, "Savage Race," which I did my first one of just 6 months later. That was so difficult. I barely jogged in between the obstacles and I certainly couldn't do all the obstacles but I got muddy and had fun.
It was also during this time period that an older boot camper heard me talking about working overnight and then coming to boot camp. He said, "You are home all day with the baby, you work from 12AM to 4AM and then come to boot camp at 6:15AM, 3 days a week?" He asked me if my husband could stay home with the baby if I worked during the day shift and said, "We might be able to find you something that works with your schedule," and handed me a business card to a car dealership.
I went in for an interview and was hired; and it was all because of Boot Camp. By the end of 2014, I had a new job, was down at least 30 pounds, had finished one Savage race, was training for another in 2015. I was ready to keep working hard.
When I got the job at the dealership and decided I wanted to get much stronger, I started going to the 5:15AM Boot Camp class, which was much faster and more dedicated than those in the 6:15AM class. Then I started doing 2 hours of Boot Camp to train for Savage Race, and jog on my days off. I ran 2 Savage Races in 2015, March and October, and the March one was my best because I didn't get super sick after all that exertion, which was good. I sure had cold, muddy fun though!
I was super fit and having a great time, working normal hours and becoming myself again. I started to get to know everyone in my boot camp better. I met a lot of local moms and got to know my trainer to the point where I watched his kiddos from time to time and think he just might consider me a friend. When 2015 ended I was doing great and we had just moved into Safety Harbor, also with the help of Boot Camp, who recruited the Bayside Men's Group to help haul, load and unload. We provided bagels and coffee.
Boot Camp became a staple in my life. It was just always there. And I knew enough people in the group that we would always check in on each other and keep each other motivated. If you missed too many boot camps and weren't on vacation, you'd hear about it. You could be at the store and run into someone asking if you were okay, you could be on Facebook posting funny gym memes, or my favorite, in traffic and a Boot Camper pulls up next to you shouting about where you were that morning. It's a family.
I met most of my closest mom friends in Boot Camp, and in 2016, Boot Camp literally was our saving grace when we got into the car accident. In June 2016, a Wednesday morning after boot camp, and on my way to my job at the dealership, we got into a nasty car accident that put us all into the hospital, 2 out of 3 of us had severe injuries.
My boot camp mom squad and I used to have a morning Facebook group chat with, knew I was always quick to respond to anything. That morning they'd heard nothing from me and they knew something was wrong. One of my boot camp mom friends, and someone who I consider a mentor, beat us to the hospital when I called her to come help. And when my trainer checked in on us, I made a snarky comment about all we need is lots of money, and he took up a boot camp collection the next morning. He also showed up with a bunch of hand me down toys for my kiddo and helped us arrange anything we needed.
My boot camp family got me clothes for the hospital. Boot Campers bought us a new bed for our recovery because our old one wouldn't work. They CLEANED MY FILTHY HOUSE while we were in the hospital. They set up food delivery of casseroles and bought my kiddo toys and projects for her recovery. They donated gift cards, pizza money, spending cash and one mom even stocked my fridge with beer. They checked in often and I can now reveal, you boot campers made my big husband cry because I was so lucky to know you all. We even had a friend mow our lawn every two weeks for 2 months because my husband's shoulder was messed up.
Boot Camp at Bayside has helped me become healthy in more ways than one. And, sadly, Friday is the last day. This is not just for me; two weeks ago my trainer announced that the church no longer wished to host our morning routines and he would be looking into alternatives. While he has other plans in motion, the 5:15AM class days are officially over.
This hit me really hard because no matter what over the past few years, Boot Camp was just there. It was a kind of "home base" for fitness and friendships. It was insanely affordable, comfortable and you worked out with your friends who were like family. No matter what our personal lives threw at us, we had boot camp. It didn't matter if you gained weight, ate too much, or had a bad week, people would encourage you and push you a little bit more to do better.
In 2018 I joined another gym in addition to boot camp to get back into cycling and boot camp was still my most consistent routine. When you've been waking up at 4:45 for 4 years, you kind of get used to it. And even with weight fluctuations, I've kept a good 40 pounds off and stayed strong.
Closing Boot Camp at Bayside was a depressing announcement and he got a lot of people talking to him about, well what next? For me, it just broke me that the family I had known so well wouldn't congregate anymore. Sure you can always change up a routine, and you won't lose the relationships but Boot Camp is a GREAT workout! And even the workouts of the day I "hate" are still good for me! It's the end of an era!
Friday is my last day of 5:15AM Boot Camp at Bayside with all of my favorite people and I may actually cry. How do you say goodbye to something so simple, that completely changed your life for the better? Boot Camp kicked my butt into losing weight, and got me back into church to meet amazing people and helped me find job opportunities and direct me to where I belong. Boot Camp was my stability and a rock of fitness; always dependable. It will be missed. That may even be an understatement
While I'm super glad my trainer is moving onto new things, there is a part of me that will always be sad that it couldn't last forever but what is that saying, "Nothing good can stay?"
The memories and workouts will always be there, and the friendships will definitely outlast the Boot Camp at Bayside legacy.
So for my year of 34, it might not have Boot Camp but it certainly has new challenges and positive changes. So Friday morning we will say goodbye to our Boot Campers and close the book on a pretty big fitness chapter. I will definitely be in mourning though, because losing this routine is a huge hit, but if Boot Camp left me with anything, it's the ability to work through it all, especially physically!
Friday, March 8, 2019
Really Big Questions Before Coffee
I spent the first four years of my daughter's life doing everything for her in the morning. I would try to get up earlier than her to sneak some quiet. Until you have a child, you do not appreciate silence. And silence, in my humble opinion, is at it's best while sipping coffee.
I leave really early for work so morning time with my daughter is sporadic. Sometimes she is snoozing with dad and the pug and I'm the last wake up call before I pop out of the house. Sometimes she comes into the bathroom to supervise the get ready process and talk at me. My daughter doesn't stop talking from the time she wakes up, until the time she goes to bed. Laugh all you want, this isn't an exaggeration.
This morning was a pop-into the bathroom morning and she was ready to talk about everything. Unfortunately, I inadvertently left the best question right in front of her.
Not to be oversharing but after months of deliberation I just switched from Tampax to the Lunette Cup, and all I can say is it's a huge game changer, and I recommend it for anyone. I come from an environment of period-shamers and the cup has had some pretty awesome results in terms of my comfort and confidence in that arena.
I had just cleaned it this morning and left it out to dry when my daughter walked in. "Mommy, what is that?" She pointed directly at the cup. Oh man, do I have to give an anatomy lesson at 6:45? I haven't even started to boil the water for my COFFEE!
I gave her a small explanation for it's purpose and about my period but told her we could certainly talk more about it as she got older. Then came another big question: "Mommy, like how did I grow up and get so big like, how does that all happen?" Oh my gosh do I have to explain babies now? I haven't had toast or anything!
Again, a mild and dialed down version was given to her about everything and then it was: "Can I have make-up? What's that called? Why do you have two different brushes? Which one goes on your eyes? Will you wear pink today? Can you make me breakfast before you go? Can I wear my shirt from Sophia today? Can you help me find it? Did you know I didn't even hear you go to Boot Camp? I was still asleep! Was Daddy snoring a lot?"
I don't even think I can type as fast as she hurls the questions in my direction. There are so many wonderful things that come out of these conversations, but they are also exhausting. Because of life circumstances my daughter is just that kid that needs to know the plan. And mom is the planner. And when things don't go accordingly to plan, it can get upsetting so I've paid close attention to helping her navigate her feelings around all those things.
She knows the 1st Friday in August we're planning on a vacation to see PA and NY family. She knows every Saturday at the same time we have horseback riding lessons and every so often, she can switch that Saturday lesson for a different event. She needs to know how her day will look. Who is she playing with? Who is putting her to bed? Is it a normal bed time or flexible?
She is all questions and Mom is all answers. Some of the huge questions, I'm like "Uh, we'll find a video or book to better explain that." Once she asked me how did "dinosaurs get extinct?" That's a complicated question and even Land Before Time didn't really tell us everything and Jurassic Park would just scare her so, yeah. That's a long conversation, not a quick and simple answer.
We talk a lot about boobs and bodies and make-up. We talk about clothes, and ponies and friend problems. I try to steer her in the right direction with her questions but also not let her be too gossipy or dramatic, just the right amount of those. There's also a part of me that wants to enjoy that she's even asking me anything and wants to hear what I have to say.
I'm not that mom that's afraid to talk about vaginas and anatomy and how things work. I make sure she knows the right words for body parts and bodily functions and such. My child's vocabulary has always been vast and impressive, so I tell her what everything means. To my embarrassment, yes, mine is the child at the store that will announce, "Mom my vagina is really itchy!" She also likes to tell people she's "as tall as mom's boobs!"
But, again, I'd rather her have the answers to the questions, even if the answers aren't so awesome. Recently she came home talking to me about some boy telling her about Chucky, yes the doll that kills people. He told her about Chucky coming to get her and kill her dog and knives and such. I shut that down quick. I told her, Chucky is fake. He's pretend. He's a fake character with special effects made to scare people in movies and he won't hurt her. I wish I could yell at that kid. Six year old children have no need to know about CHUCKY!
The big questions before my coffee always come from curiosity, which I love and encourage just how much she wants to know about everything. It's hard to not squash that with an "I don't know, I don't care, or just be quiet," when life gets tough and I've tuned into the fact that I may have been doing that, even unconsciously. I've had many discussions with the husband about how, as a little girl, it's so important that she feels like she can be heard and say what she wants to say, even if it seems like nonsense to us.
Weekday mornings I'm always in "a hurry," and I remind her often to please not be "in my way," but this morning I made some time for her really big questions. Sometimes they need to be "continued" at a different time when mommy can function better. But most often, even as they seem annoying when I'm not at my best mom moments, I'd rather have her ask me everything than not talk to me at all.
She's still my baby and is learning and absorbing EVERYTHING. There is plenty of time for her to keep things from me and give me the silent treatment when I piss her off. For now I really want to talk about the make-up brushes, my period, My Little Pony and extinct dinosaurs, even if it's before coffee.
I leave really early for work so morning time with my daughter is sporadic. Sometimes she is snoozing with dad and the pug and I'm the last wake up call before I pop out of the house. Sometimes she comes into the bathroom to supervise the get ready process and talk at me. My daughter doesn't stop talking from the time she wakes up, until the time she goes to bed. Laugh all you want, this isn't an exaggeration.
This morning was a pop-into the bathroom morning and she was ready to talk about everything. Unfortunately, I inadvertently left the best question right in front of her.
Not to be oversharing but after months of deliberation I just switched from Tampax to the Lunette Cup, and all I can say is it's a huge game changer, and I recommend it for anyone. I come from an environment of period-shamers and the cup has had some pretty awesome results in terms of my comfort and confidence in that arena.
I had just cleaned it this morning and left it out to dry when my daughter walked in. "Mommy, what is that?" She pointed directly at the cup. Oh man, do I have to give an anatomy lesson at 6:45? I haven't even started to boil the water for my COFFEE!
I gave her a small explanation for it's purpose and about my period but told her we could certainly talk more about it as she got older. Then came another big question: "Mommy, like how did I grow up and get so big like, how does that all happen?" Oh my gosh do I have to explain babies now? I haven't had toast or anything!
Again, a mild and dialed down version was given to her about everything and then it was: "Can I have make-up? What's that called? Why do you have two different brushes? Which one goes on your eyes? Will you wear pink today? Can you make me breakfast before you go? Can I wear my shirt from Sophia today? Can you help me find it? Did you know I didn't even hear you go to Boot Camp? I was still asleep! Was Daddy snoring a lot?"
I don't even think I can type as fast as she hurls the questions in my direction. There are so many wonderful things that come out of these conversations, but they are also exhausting. Because of life circumstances my daughter is just that kid that needs to know the plan. And mom is the planner. And when things don't go accordingly to plan, it can get upsetting so I've paid close attention to helping her navigate her feelings around all those things.
She knows the 1st Friday in August we're planning on a vacation to see PA and NY family. She knows every Saturday at the same time we have horseback riding lessons and every so often, she can switch that Saturday lesson for a different event. She needs to know how her day will look. Who is she playing with? Who is putting her to bed? Is it a normal bed time or flexible?
She is all questions and Mom is all answers. Some of the huge questions, I'm like "Uh, we'll find a video or book to better explain that." Once she asked me how did "dinosaurs get extinct?" That's a complicated question and even Land Before Time didn't really tell us everything and Jurassic Park would just scare her so, yeah. That's a long conversation, not a quick and simple answer.
We talk a lot about boobs and bodies and make-up. We talk about clothes, and ponies and friend problems. I try to steer her in the right direction with her questions but also not let her be too gossipy or dramatic, just the right amount of those. There's also a part of me that wants to enjoy that she's even asking me anything and wants to hear what I have to say.
I'm not that mom that's afraid to talk about vaginas and anatomy and how things work. I make sure she knows the right words for body parts and bodily functions and such. My child's vocabulary has always been vast and impressive, so I tell her what everything means. To my embarrassment, yes, mine is the child at the store that will announce, "Mom my vagina is really itchy!" She also likes to tell people she's "as tall as mom's boobs!"
But, again, I'd rather her have the answers to the questions, even if the answers aren't so awesome. Recently she came home talking to me about some boy telling her about Chucky, yes the doll that kills people. He told her about Chucky coming to get her and kill her dog and knives and such. I shut that down quick. I told her, Chucky is fake. He's pretend. He's a fake character with special effects made to scare people in movies and he won't hurt her. I wish I could yell at that kid. Six year old children have no need to know about CHUCKY!
The big questions before my coffee always come from curiosity, which I love and encourage just how much she wants to know about everything. It's hard to not squash that with an "I don't know, I don't care, or just be quiet," when life gets tough and I've tuned into the fact that I may have been doing that, even unconsciously. I've had many discussions with the husband about how, as a little girl, it's so important that she feels like she can be heard and say what she wants to say, even if it seems like nonsense to us.
Weekday mornings I'm always in "a hurry," and I remind her often to please not be "in my way," but this morning I made some time for her really big questions. Sometimes they need to be "continued" at a different time when mommy can function better. But most often, even as they seem annoying when I'm not at my best mom moments, I'd rather have her ask me everything than not talk to me at all.
She's still my baby and is learning and absorbing EVERYTHING. There is plenty of time for her to keep things from me and give me the silent treatment when I piss her off. For now I really want to talk about the make-up brushes, my period, My Little Pony and extinct dinosaurs, even if it's before coffee.
Monday, February 18, 2019
What Is "Free Time?"
It's President's Day, a Monday, and I am sitting home alone. Okay, so the dog is here, perhaps slightly different. My daughter is in her aftercare program and my husband is at the dentist. I already had breakfast with a friend and have time before I must leave the house to achieve other things. Wait, is this that "Free time," thing I've heard about?
I never have days like this and I mean, maybe once a year at best do I have a day to myself. No child popping in and out or reading my blogging behind me, asking what games are on my computer, or can I get her a snack. No husband asking what I want to do, what should we do or what we "have" to do. Just...time. This is uncomfortable!
I always have plans. There is always something to do! But I cleaned a lot this weekend. I reorganized. I sorted cookies. My robovac is working for me right now. The dog is walked. There is always laundry, but that would only take a few minutes later.
Seriously, what should I do with myself? I could paint a shelf that my daughter has demanded, but that's not actually super essential. I could reorganize some stuff. Also not necessary. So for now I'm lounging on my couch writing this.
I've had friends brag to me about boredom and free time and to me, those luxuries are the stuff of dreams, like when I dream about naps. Oh! Maybe I can take a nap! That would be the best day ever.
Free time just isn't something that happens for me so I kind of think of it as some kind of mystical miracle like, it COULD happen but probably won't. And also, my free time often consists of doing all the other things I just never have time for otherwise. Like shopping for grout cleaner, or getting new wiper blades, or cleaning an otherwise ignored area of my house.
Tomorrow I go back to all kinds of normal routines so I'm definitely just feeling like, "Well I'm going to enjoy this. Yes I am!"
I was able to sneak a nap, although that may have backfired because I'm tired again, but mostly I was forced by other moms and people who know me best to slow down, enjoy the free time and just be for once. I think this goes along with that relaxing thing. I suck at it.
I'm truly the worst there is when it comes to doing anything for myself but considering I'm in some pain from boot camp, it's still quiet and I'm kid free for another few hours, I'm going to do my best to enjoy this whole "free time" thing and I shall even stop typing away. Back to regular stuff tomorrow!
I never have days like this and I mean, maybe once a year at best do I have a day to myself. No child popping in and out or reading my blogging behind me, asking what games are on my computer, or can I get her a snack. No husband asking what I want to do, what should we do or what we "have" to do. Just...time. This is uncomfortable!
I always have plans. There is always something to do! But I cleaned a lot this weekend. I reorganized. I sorted cookies. My robovac is working for me right now. The dog is walked. There is always laundry, but that would only take a few minutes later.
Seriously, what should I do with myself? I could paint a shelf that my daughter has demanded, but that's not actually super essential. I could reorganize some stuff. Also not necessary. So for now I'm lounging on my couch writing this.
I've had friends brag to me about boredom and free time and to me, those luxuries are the stuff of dreams, like when I dream about naps. Oh! Maybe I can take a nap! That would be the best day ever.
Free time just isn't something that happens for me so I kind of think of it as some kind of mystical miracle like, it COULD happen but probably won't. And also, my free time often consists of doing all the other things I just never have time for otherwise. Like shopping for grout cleaner, or getting new wiper blades, or cleaning an otherwise ignored area of my house.
Tomorrow I go back to all kinds of normal routines so I'm definitely just feeling like, "Well I'm going to enjoy this. Yes I am!"
I was able to sneak a nap, although that may have backfired because I'm tired again, but mostly I was forced by other moms and people who know me best to slow down, enjoy the free time and just be for once. I think this goes along with that relaxing thing. I suck at it.
I'm truly the worst there is when it comes to doing anything for myself but considering I'm in some pain from boot camp, it's still quiet and I'm kid free for another few hours, I'm going to do my best to enjoy this whole "free time" thing and I shall even stop typing away. Back to regular stuff tomorrow!
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Mom Bods: We Carry More Weight In More Ways Than One
This morning I did the unthinkable. I did something that bothered me to every fiber of my being. Something that I haven't done in over six years. I got on the scale to see what I weighed. Why did I cave into doing something I loathe in this way? Well, yesterday I went to my annual lady check up on a cold Florida morning and they made me get on their scale, and completely clothed, mind you. After obsessively working out with no time to eat too much, of course I expected to drop 20 pounds immediately because I deserved it dammit! Alas, I weighed maybe a pound or two less than last year, which was super disappointing.
So, I tossed and turned, hit the gym this morning and decided, "I can't actually weigh that much because I had on boots and serious layers and I started 2018 very puffy and uncomfortable. I refuse to believe I've made no progress." So I did it and as I suspected, 6 pounds less with no layers and boots. Score! And I looked at that number and realized, I was a good 40 pounds lighter than when I had Luna, but 24 pounds heavier than my skinniest. The best part? Those numbers didn't defeat me.
Exactly 10 years ago when I was in Oregon, finishing my last semester at University of Oregon (Go Ducks) and finishing my depression and anxiety treatment, fitness was everything to me. In just 2 months in the future, I'd be engaged and then married the day after I graduated college.
I was friends with a trainer that worked at the U of O fitness complex so between her and weight watchers I ended up trimming down to the absolute most fit I've ever been. I worked really hard because when you're a college student working only part time, you have all the time in the world to eat, but then again to work out also. When I actually looked at weight watchers and saw how many points were assigned to everything, I wanted to become anorexic or bulimic. Luckily I went through way too many years of orthodontia to ruin my teeth so anorexia became way more appealing than pigging out. Who was I kidding though, I didn't have that discipline and I was in love with food.
I replaced binge-eating and emotional snacking with working out. My last semester at U of O I actually won the Nike Fit Female of the month and was up to 3 workouts some days. When I got married, I was legitimately thin. I was so terrified to put it back on because I LOVE FOOD and also wine and amazing cocktails. I maintained really well our first 2 years in Florida because it is mandatory you have a "beach body." With age and stress, I allowed myself a little more wiggle room until pregnancy and then after a really great first 4 months of growing a person, I just went for it. All I wanted was steak, potatoes, Twizzlers and Chik Fil A and also, if you can't eat like a pig when you're pregnant, when can you?
I got on the scale after Luna was born and there may have been tears over the post baby belly. It took me a year of motherhood until I allowed myself to take much time for me and when I hit boot camp, it was so hard. The first 90 days were the most brutal but I did it. I got down to my thick comfy size after a year. After two years I was in my pre-baby size but on the top of that range too. This past year was about stress and anxiety though.
We'd had a wedding to attend last summer that would be filled with beautiful people and I wanted to be one of them. I had made grand designs to start in March only to have them completely derailed and halted. Not being able to work out my normal routine and being left with no other options sank me into a pretty bad depression. What helped? Bread and ice cream. Not together, just as my comfort cheats.
Finally I'd had enough. My mom, who has given me enough body issues to sustain multiple lifetimes, was of course on board to watch Luna so I could go workout during the weeknights so I could "start to feel better and fit into real clothes again," as she so lovingly describes my journey and struggle. So, I got a gym membership and went back to full time boot camp. Before I knew it I was working out twice a day again and every time I got angry or sad or anxious, I took it out in spin or on the treadmill.
I stopped getting on the scale when I started Boot Camp because when I felt better, I noticed my sleep getting more sound and my clothes fitting differently so that was all I needed. I also had a tribe of people who supported me and told me I was looking healthier, happier and different. Working at the car dealership at the time also helped because I was surrounded by a bunch of 45+ old married dudes who loved to make inappropriately strange compliments from time to time; always a nice ego boost.
But I stayed away from that scale. Why? Because when I was younger with way more free time, all I had was time to obsess about food and all the rationalizations of "If I want that I have to work out more to earn it." In my old age I just decided, "Oh I'm having that cake, but just one small piece, not 3 because someone pissed me off today. Someone will piss me off every day, take it out on the elliptical. That's how you have your cake and eat it too mama!" Yes, I literally pep talk myself often.
Even after the car accident, my stomach, an already super self-conscious area for me because my mom used to pat it and promise I'd "grow out of the baby fat and then be pretty and thin," got so smashed and bruised from the seat belt and impact that today there are little scar type crumples and bumps that I despise. It was hard for me to get really back into working out because I was so sore and swollen and awkward for a couple months. So my patience with my body has since evolved.
With all of the mental stuff that came with that, I just didn't take care of myself. So last year I took it back. Now due to adulting, the gym membership expires next week, however I have multiple back up plans to keep me healthy, but this morning was about my needing that validation that it was paying off. I have a few people who's opinion of my physical appearance I trust undoubtedly past the whole "Uh huh, yeah that matches" type thing, but I think I still needed a little affirmation for myself.
I don't intend to get obsessive about the numbers. I will admit I was a little disappointed, yes, but having the numbers be more already lost than more I need to lose was positive. And I've found that we all have these things about us, these strengths and weaknesses about our own personal imagery. And on these journeys, maybe we post too much about it on Instagram, but these routines for health we've established can sometimes be our saving grace. For me, the gym is a place where nothing else matters but my time to kick butt, everything else can slow down for a minute.
As moms we all carry weight so differently, which is why I hate the scale. I weigh the same as women 2 feet taller than me but it's all in my stomach and thighs, and maybe they carry it in their waist or bust. You never know. And us moms have it worse than you single ladies because our bodies went through uncontrollable changes. Sure we can try to keep everything together but pregnancy and childbirth change our figures forever! My hips can tell you that personally, and my boobs too! I didn't even have boobs before baby! And they still haven't even left me!
Already as moms we feel that pressure to be fit and look good even on the days we feel like a tired old handbag ready to be thrown in the Goodwill pile. I remember this weird feeling after I had Luna where I had to "dress like a mom." What did that even mean? I mean I had shirts with weird band logos and swear words. I guess I shouldn't show up to the park in those but did I need an Ann Taylor credit card? How does one dress like a mom? I still don't know.
We all have our own style and ways for ever facet of motherhood, especially how we carry our physical and emotional weight. Mom Bods carry it all, both figuratively and physically, so be gentle on each other, and be gentle on ourselves. It's progress over perfection and the last cliche of today is, the only workout you regret, is the one you didn't do! You got this mamas! WE got this! See you in the gym!
So, I tossed and turned, hit the gym this morning and decided, "I can't actually weigh that much because I had on boots and serious layers and I started 2018 very puffy and uncomfortable. I refuse to believe I've made no progress." So I did it and as I suspected, 6 pounds less with no layers and boots. Score! And I looked at that number and realized, I was a good 40 pounds lighter than when I had Luna, but 24 pounds heavier than my skinniest. The best part? Those numbers didn't defeat me.
Exactly 10 years ago when I was in Oregon, finishing my last semester at University of Oregon (Go Ducks) and finishing my depression and anxiety treatment, fitness was everything to me. In just 2 months in the future, I'd be engaged and then married the day after I graduated college.
I was friends with a trainer that worked at the U of O fitness complex so between her and weight watchers I ended up trimming down to the absolute most fit I've ever been. I worked really hard because when you're a college student working only part time, you have all the time in the world to eat, but then again to work out also. When I actually looked at weight watchers and saw how many points were assigned to everything, I wanted to become anorexic or bulimic. Luckily I went through way too many years of orthodontia to ruin my teeth so anorexia became way more appealing than pigging out. Who was I kidding though, I didn't have that discipline and I was in love with food.
I replaced binge-eating and emotional snacking with working out. My last semester at U of O I actually won the Nike Fit Female of the month and was up to 3 workouts some days. When I got married, I was legitimately thin. I was so terrified to put it back on because I LOVE FOOD and also wine and amazing cocktails. I maintained really well our first 2 years in Florida because it is mandatory you have a "beach body." With age and stress, I allowed myself a little more wiggle room until pregnancy and then after a really great first 4 months of growing a person, I just went for it. All I wanted was steak, potatoes, Twizzlers and Chik Fil A and also, if you can't eat like a pig when you're pregnant, when can you?
I got on the scale after Luna was born and there may have been tears over the post baby belly. It took me a year of motherhood until I allowed myself to take much time for me and when I hit boot camp, it was so hard. The first 90 days were the most brutal but I did it. I got down to my thick comfy size after a year. After two years I was in my pre-baby size but on the top of that range too. This past year was about stress and anxiety though.
We'd had a wedding to attend last summer that would be filled with beautiful people and I wanted to be one of them. I had made grand designs to start in March only to have them completely derailed and halted. Not being able to work out my normal routine and being left with no other options sank me into a pretty bad depression. What helped? Bread and ice cream. Not together, just as my comfort cheats.
Finally I'd had enough. My mom, who has given me enough body issues to sustain multiple lifetimes, was of course on board to watch Luna so I could go workout during the weeknights so I could "start to feel better and fit into real clothes again," as she so lovingly describes my journey and struggle. So, I got a gym membership and went back to full time boot camp. Before I knew it I was working out twice a day again and every time I got angry or sad or anxious, I took it out in spin or on the treadmill.
I stopped getting on the scale when I started Boot Camp because when I felt better, I noticed my sleep getting more sound and my clothes fitting differently so that was all I needed. I also had a tribe of people who supported me and told me I was looking healthier, happier and different. Working at the car dealership at the time also helped because I was surrounded by a bunch of 45+ old married dudes who loved to make inappropriately strange compliments from time to time; always a nice ego boost.
But I stayed away from that scale. Why? Because when I was younger with way more free time, all I had was time to obsess about food and all the rationalizations of "If I want that I have to work out more to earn it." In my old age I just decided, "Oh I'm having that cake, but just one small piece, not 3 because someone pissed me off today. Someone will piss me off every day, take it out on the elliptical. That's how you have your cake and eat it too mama!" Yes, I literally pep talk myself often.
Even after the car accident, my stomach, an already super self-conscious area for me because my mom used to pat it and promise I'd "grow out of the baby fat and then be pretty and thin," got so smashed and bruised from the seat belt and impact that today there are little scar type crumples and bumps that I despise. It was hard for me to get really back into working out because I was so sore and swollen and awkward for a couple months. So my patience with my body has since evolved.
With all of the mental stuff that came with that, I just didn't take care of myself. So last year I took it back. Now due to adulting, the gym membership expires next week, however I have multiple back up plans to keep me healthy, but this morning was about my needing that validation that it was paying off. I have a few people who's opinion of my physical appearance I trust undoubtedly past the whole "Uh huh, yeah that matches" type thing, but I think I still needed a little affirmation for myself.
I don't intend to get obsessive about the numbers. I will admit I was a little disappointed, yes, but having the numbers be more already lost than more I need to lose was positive. And I've found that we all have these things about us, these strengths and weaknesses about our own personal imagery. And on these journeys, maybe we post too much about it on Instagram, but these routines for health we've established can sometimes be our saving grace. For me, the gym is a place where nothing else matters but my time to kick butt, everything else can slow down for a minute.
As moms we all carry weight so differently, which is why I hate the scale. I weigh the same as women 2 feet taller than me but it's all in my stomach and thighs, and maybe they carry it in their waist or bust. You never know. And us moms have it worse than you single ladies because our bodies went through uncontrollable changes. Sure we can try to keep everything together but pregnancy and childbirth change our figures forever! My hips can tell you that personally, and my boobs too! I didn't even have boobs before baby! And they still haven't even left me!
Already as moms we feel that pressure to be fit and look good even on the days we feel like a tired old handbag ready to be thrown in the Goodwill pile. I remember this weird feeling after I had Luna where I had to "dress like a mom." What did that even mean? I mean I had shirts with weird band logos and swear words. I guess I shouldn't show up to the park in those but did I need an Ann Taylor credit card? How does one dress like a mom? I still don't know.
We all have our own style and ways for ever facet of motherhood, especially how we carry our physical and emotional weight. Mom Bods carry it all, both figuratively and physically, so be gentle on each other, and be gentle on ourselves. It's progress over perfection and the last cliche of today is, the only workout you regret, is the one you didn't do! You got this mamas! WE got this! See you in the gym!
Friday, January 18, 2019
Working Out: It's In The Name That You "Work"
Luna has one neighborhood friend and they live a block away, which I love because there's no waiting for someone to get home to play drama. It just so happens I ran into my neighbor at the gym so we have that now too. Well, actually I had to cancel my membership so probably not but she said happily, "Now I know who I can work out with!"
Uh, not so much. Yeah I'm an antisocial workout person in terms of, when I go to workout, I'm on a mission so I'm not there to chat. If you want to chat, I'll meet you at a coffee shop no problem, but I don't do the "workout and hangout." I can't multitask that way. I can't count my reps and have a discussion about anything else with you.
When I was younger my mom had a few words to describe my physical appearance and the one that has always stuck with me is "round." I've always been at the top of my weight range for my height. I blame this on growing up in the land of ShooFly Pie, TastyKakes, Pen Supreme Iced Tea and all things Pennsylvania Dutch, but also, my mom was a junk foodie and I ate all the things at friends houses I could never have too.
When I was in like 7th grade I did my first and only season of Basketball. I slimmed down a bit. When I was in high school, I played tennis. This was after my mom and dad had split up so left under my dad's dietary rules, I got skinny. It was even unbeknownst to me that I became fit until I saw some homecoming pictures from one year to the next. I learned quickly that I can eat stuff, but I also have to work out a lot to burn it off.
As soon as I spent one year with my mom I gained a bunch back because I was eating out all the time, I wasn't playing any sports and my friend worked at Baskin Robbins. That's when I really saw the difference. When I got shipped back to live with my Dad I got back into the gym. This is where the obsession began. I had taken a few spin classes here and there but I loved group fitness like step class, weight training and yoga. Anything where I could go and be told what to do and earn some yummy food later, I was in. But I never needed a friend to go with me; I was always most comfortable solo.
I found my first nanny job because of a YMCA kickboxing class. Little known fact, I was almost a step instructor in my early 20s but too many of my friends got me away from that being a feasible idea. By the time 21 hit and it was all about drinking your calories and hangover food I had gotten "round" again. During a really bad time for me mentally and personally as I entered into therapy, part of my depression and anxiety management was working out and maintaining routines.
I was already on a strict schedule when I got married and I'm happy to say, I was as skinny and healthy as I ever was for our wedding. I was able to maintain about a 10 pound range of that and worked out consistently from then on, until I became pregnant. Not only did movement the first 3 months just make me want to puke in general, but all I wanted to do was sleep. Then I ate all the things for my last two trimesters and gained way too much.
When my daughter was a year old I went back to it and found my faithful favorite, a local Boot Camp, which has since helped me lose about 40 pounds, on top of toning and strengthening. This was not easy. The first 6 months were brutal. Then my trainer challenged me to try something called The Savage Race. The first one nearly killed me and I couldn't even jog the whole thing. But then I challenged myself to two more, and the second of 3 was my most successful. To train for this I did 2 hours of boot camp, not just one, and ran a couple miles on off days. It worked.
I don't know if I'll ever quite be as skinny as the wedding days me, but now I'm at least in my pre-baby pants size range. Now knowing this, here is what you must understand, I work out with a group often, I'll enter a race with people but I'm running for me and me alone. I have my own goals and you don't have to keep up with me, nor I you because I'm in it for my own gain, not to socialize. I seriously don't know how people can run and talk. I need music or working out is pointless. And you can bet I have an epic workout playlist!
It's not that I can't go to the gym with people, but don't expect me to chit chat and socialize when I'm trying to kick my own ass. So when people ask me to run, my headphones are in and I'm in my own place. It's me, the music, the challenge. So I get a little socially awkward and put off when people want to be gym buddies and I seriously only offer to go to the gym with someone if they are wanting to commit to kicking some butt. And even then, I don't train "with them," I'm just there for moral support. Odds are I will be on the other side of the gym unless we take a spin or yoga class together.
I feel like working out is meant to be hard work, so why have anything in your way. We get in our own way enough so why have unnecessary exterior distractions. Maybe that's just my strange introverted extroverted ways but that's what works for me.
For me, working out is my most selfish and sacred "me time." It makes me feel better, sleep better and be a nicer human. I have no problem getting up at 4:45AM and going to work out if it makes my entire day easier. I never regret a workout I completed, just the ones I didn't.
My boot camp buddies and I all keep tabs on each other. We check in and make sure we're missing class for life reasons instead of slacking. We invite each other to try other new things. We push each other. I always fell behind the group and was last across the finish line for Savage Race but my boot campers were always waiting, cheering me on. That's why I'm 5 years strong and would never quit going.
I've made a lot of friends through boot camp, whom I've run races with but not with, if that makes any sense. We see each other there and give hi-fives and maybe encourage each other with a little push but all do our own thing. I very much value the separate togetherness. Even when my husband used to hit the gym with me, he'd be weight training and I'd be in yoga. We all have our own workout routines that work for us.
So sure, I can take one for the team and go work out with some one from time to time, but mostly you'll see me fiercely focused, especially when on the treadmill lip-syncing "Girls" by Beyonce or "Woman" by Kesha. Yeah I tend to rock out when I workout and make sure no one gets the idea to talk to me when I'm in the zone! I'll be over here putting the "work" in "workout."
Uh, not so much. Yeah I'm an antisocial workout person in terms of, when I go to workout, I'm on a mission so I'm not there to chat. If you want to chat, I'll meet you at a coffee shop no problem, but I don't do the "workout and hangout." I can't multitask that way. I can't count my reps and have a discussion about anything else with you.
When I was younger my mom had a few words to describe my physical appearance and the one that has always stuck with me is "round." I've always been at the top of my weight range for my height. I blame this on growing up in the land of ShooFly Pie, TastyKakes, Pen Supreme Iced Tea and all things Pennsylvania Dutch, but also, my mom was a junk foodie and I ate all the things at friends houses I could never have too.
When I was in like 7th grade I did my first and only season of Basketball. I slimmed down a bit. When I was in high school, I played tennis. This was after my mom and dad had split up so left under my dad's dietary rules, I got skinny. It was even unbeknownst to me that I became fit until I saw some homecoming pictures from one year to the next. I learned quickly that I can eat stuff, but I also have to work out a lot to burn it off.
As soon as I spent one year with my mom I gained a bunch back because I was eating out all the time, I wasn't playing any sports and my friend worked at Baskin Robbins. That's when I really saw the difference. When I got shipped back to live with my Dad I got back into the gym. This is where the obsession began. I had taken a few spin classes here and there but I loved group fitness like step class, weight training and yoga. Anything where I could go and be told what to do and earn some yummy food later, I was in. But I never needed a friend to go with me; I was always most comfortable solo.
I found my first nanny job because of a YMCA kickboxing class. Little known fact, I was almost a step instructor in my early 20s but too many of my friends got me away from that being a feasible idea. By the time 21 hit and it was all about drinking your calories and hangover food I had gotten "round" again. During a really bad time for me mentally and personally as I entered into therapy, part of my depression and anxiety management was working out and maintaining routines.
I was already on a strict schedule when I got married and I'm happy to say, I was as skinny and healthy as I ever was for our wedding. I was able to maintain about a 10 pound range of that and worked out consistently from then on, until I became pregnant. Not only did movement the first 3 months just make me want to puke in general, but all I wanted to do was sleep. Then I ate all the things for my last two trimesters and gained way too much.
When my daughter was a year old I went back to it and found my faithful favorite, a local Boot Camp, which has since helped me lose about 40 pounds, on top of toning and strengthening. This was not easy. The first 6 months were brutal. Then my trainer challenged me to try something called The Savage Race. The first one nearly killed me and I couldn't even jog the whole thing. But then I challenged myself to two more, and the second of 3 was my most successful. To train for this I did 2 hours of boot camp, not just one, and ran a couple miles on off days. It worked.
I don't know if I'll ever quite be as skinny as the wedding days me, but now I'm at least in my pre-baby pants size range. Now knowing this, here is what you must understand, I work out with a group often, I'll enter a race with people but I'm running for me and me alone. I have my own goals and you don't have to keep up with me, nor I you because I'm in it for my own gain, not to socialize. I seriously don't know how people can run and talk. I need music or working out is pointless. And you can bet I have an epic workout playlist!
It's not that I can't go to the gym with people, but don't expect me to chit chat and socialize when I'm trying to kick my own ass. So when people ask me to run, my headphones are in and I'm in my own place. It's me, the music, the challenge. So I get a little socially awkward and put off when people want to be gym buddies and I seriously only offer to go to the gym with someone if they are wanting to commit to kicking some butt. And even then, I don't train "with them," I'm just there for moral support. Odds are I will be on the other side of the gym unless we take a spin or yoga class together.
I feel like working out is meant to be hard work, so why have anything in your way. We get in our own way enough so why have unnecessary exterior distractions. Maybe that's just my strange introverted extroverted ways but that's what works for me.
For me, working out is my most selfish and sacred "me time." It makes me feel better, sleep better and be a nicer human. I have no problem getting up at 4:45AM and going to work out if it makes my entire day easier. I never regret a workout I completed, just the ones I didn't.
My boot camp buddies and I all keep tabs on each other. We check in and make sure we're missing class for life reasons instead of slacking. We invite each other to try other new things. We push each other. I always fell behind the group and was last across the finish line for Savage Race but my boot campers were always waiting, cheering me on. That's why I'm 5 years strong and would never quit going.
I've made a lot of friends through boot camp, whom I've run races with but not with, if that makes any sense. We see each other there and give hi-fives and maybe encourage each other with a little push but all do our own thing. I very much value the separate togetherness. Even when my husband used to hit the gym with me, he'd be weight training and I'd be in yoga. We all have our own workout routines that work for us.
So sure, I can take one for the team and go work out with some one from time to time, but mostly you'll see me fiercely focused, especially when on the treadmill lip-syncing "Girls" by Beyonce or "Woman" by Kesha. Yeah I tend to rock out when I workout and make sure no one gets the idea to talk to me when I'm in the zone! I'll be over here putting the "work" in "workout."
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