Sore Makes Me Less Sorry For Myself

I had an old friend check in on me yesterday. Whenever life mentally beats me down, I kind of go hermit and hide from people. I start to refrain from checking in and just kind of try and keep afloat. We have become better in the last year of the every few months check in and as someone who I would consider one of my closest friends and someone I admire in life and motherhood, her check in came in right on time.

Having confessed to her last year my personal struggles with all things life and then finding out hers was similar and not all smiles and cute kids, she always asks about my big struggle. Yesterday I told her "I work out, A LOT, to burn off some of the stress."

I added an "LOL," to lighten the heaviness that might come with that commentary and realized this morning how happy I'd felt all week being so sore and sleeping so well, because I had kicked my butt physically. I think being sore made me feel less sorry for myself after my relapse of high anxiety and deep depression last weekend.

I think it's something that can be hard for people to grasp but because my mind is often like a hamster spinning on a wheel to nowhere, a focused workout or even a treadmill run takes all my mental energy and harnesses it for good, leaving me able to rest at ease later. I wish I could call it a vanity thing like I wanted to be "hot" and "slim" but that has almost nothing to do with it. I like to look healthy, which has a wide definition, different for everyone, but skinny is not my goal.

When I had my first realization of how deep my depression and anxiety where I was about 22 or 23. I had lost both of my grandparents within a year and my mom had a cancer scare with a large tumor removed. I had been through a lot with personal relationships and was mid-college trying to figure out this thing called life. In my therapy they emphasized the importance of routine, physical activity and structure. 

I would say I religiously follow that rule about my personal struggle with depression and anxiety that physical activity is tantamount to my mental recovery. I always feel badly when I don't work out and the sore is better than the sorry for myself. I always catch myself being at my worst when and if I'm not moving around enough.

Working out has always been my therapy, especially when we couldn't afford someone for me to talk to. When I work out it's usually just myself and my music. Music is therapy part two. There is nothing I can't do, and no mental anguish if I have the perfect play list, even if that play list is all depressing stuff.

I rest better at night, both physically and mentally, when I know I have physically exhausted myself. This can sound kind of masochistic but I actually just love that sense of accomplishment. I know plenty of people who live on protein shakes and hardcore diets and serious fitness goals and I'm happy that works for them, but I like knowing I can indulge in ice cream guilt free because I kicked my ass throughout the day.

When I feel sore, not only am I far less sorry for myself in general, but I know I did something right to keep feeling that work out as the day goes on. Yesterday I was laughing out loud at how much it hurt from soreness to run and to do other exercises because I had given myself consistently great workouts throughout the week. 

This morning I realized how imperative my workouts are for everything. I recently started taking my daughter to the gym with me. Not only is she old enough to actually take in what I'm doing, but she can sit and chill while I get my workout in, and if it's slow enough, join me a bit. Now my mom gave me a huge complex about my body, which I am fighting tooth and nail to NOT to do my daughter at all. I always tell her she's fantastic. "Fat" is like a swear word in our house. I want her to understand health and happiness, so I try to lead by example.

Some people may view my twice daily workouts five days a week as excessive or obsessive. But one could also say the same for Keto-dieters, taking all kinds of supplements or meal-planning, weight watchers and so on and so forth. To each their own. For me it is 90% mental health practices and 10% fitness related.

Also, I like working out. It is something I actually enjoy. I don't "enjoy" running but I'll do it sometimes. I do my best to make anything that makes me sore, at least less of a chore than other things. We all have workouts we like, and workouts we don't. I try and keep a decent mix.

For me working out is part of health care. It's preventative and part of a healthy lifestyle. Look I eat cookies, and cake, and many "unhealthy" things but all in moderation. So working out is meant to bring me some balance, both physically and mentally. It's what I strive for.

I think it would be easy to see my posts and say I'm a work-out-aholic. It could be easy to exchange one form of obsession or compulsion for another, but I think the work out obsession may be safer than a binge-eating situation. Some of the most functional people I know have a good workout routine and decent eating habits, even if they have a cheat day from time to time.

After my recent mental mis-step I'm just taking pride in the fact that I'm very aware of what to do to get myself back on my feet, so to speak. I know what my mind and body need and I'm not afraid or ashamed to share that. I love that being sore keeps away the "sorrys." I don't need to throw myself a pity party because we all have our mental woes. I need to continue to heal, and continue to grow. My fitness regimes feed that growth and healing and keep those endorphins flowing freely!

Also, Elle Woods is my girl so, I kinda like to follow her life model. Happy Friday!

Stormy Morning Slowdown - Self Love And Self Appreciation

Let me just preface this with the fact that I rarely know what I'm going to blog about, let alone get excited about it. There are so many days that the page stays blank and the cursor taunts me until I get going. Today was completely different and I knew exactly what I wanted to talk about. 

So, I've been writing a lot (perhaps too much) about self love, self appreciation and healing. This morning happened upon a lesson in all of the above and at 5AM for all times. I've recently taken to double work outs. So I'm up at 5 for 30 minutes at 9Rounds, then I get ready for work and pack clothes to run or use the elliptical on my lunch break, maybe add in some more abs or weights as well. It's helped a lot with my confidence and energy. 

I realized that I never regret my early morning workout but I always regret skipping it for extra sleep. I just operate best if Monday through Friday I'm up at the same time and with the same routine. This morning I woke up to my alarm groggy; I could tell I didn't sleep well my last couple hours. I got up and got dressed and went to feed the dog. I heard thunder and shrugged it off. When I walked into the kitchen it was thundering louder, there were faint flashes and it was pouring.

I paused and looked at the "clean" dishwasher light and remembered I had laundry to fold as the rain got worse. I thought to myself, "I can miss this morning, fold laundry and put away dishes, still work out on lunch, oh and watch the Big Little Lies finale with a fresh cup of coffee!" And that is exactly what I did.

What is fresh and new for me, what makes this all blog-worthy is that is I haven't been berating myself mentally over and over for missing the workout. I even had one of my closest friends give me "permission" for a rest day. I'm recently really sensitive about my rest days. I reserve them for the weekend because Saturdays are super busy and Sundays my gym is closed and I always hope to be more calm. Not hating or punishing myself for indulging in a little rest is new, but also really nice. I'm attributing this to some growth and healing.

I have a big weekend looming as I'm taking on two extra children for my household and I'm not going to pretend I'm not slightly stressed and anxious but I also am not being negative about it or dreading it. I'm fully capable and looking forward to getting them out and having fun with them all. It's also new that I'm saying yes to things that normally I would shy away from and setting more fun boundaries with other things. My inner dialogue has been more positive and succinct. I like it.

The stormy morning forced me to just stop and slow down. I have dreams for a porch re-do one day and I thought, one day I can hang on the porch with coffee and enjoy those showers. I appreciated the quiet while folding laundry, completely engulfed in my show just taking it all in. I rarely take time for much of anything anymore, let alone self care and something so simple was kind of a huge deal and I felt proud for allowing myself to do it all without any mental backlash.

Self love is rough. I had a day this week where I messaged a friend saying I felt fat and flabby and was struggling and I thought maybe it was just a bad outfit choice. I was honestly impressed with my clarity about all those feelings, and that instead of "complaining" about it, desperate for some weird validation or compliments, I kind of just owned it as an off feeling day and attempted to reach out for a little support. And the reach out was well received and kind, by the way.

Self appreciation is another new thing for me. I'm slowly appreciating where I am on the journey and that I'm trying, diligently to continue the forward momentum. Falling into a negative self-loathing place is easier than staying positive and learning self-love and appreciation, in my experience, at least as of recent times. This morning was an affirmation that I'm truly on a good path with it all. That is an easy feeling to embrace on a good day, maybe not so much on an off one though.

It's a process, all of it and I'm sure I will have bad days but for today I'm keeping the goodness close and pushing through. I'm even loving the rain!

I was excited to share about this, not just because it's pleasant progress, but I think we all get so caught up in the grind and the stress of life that we forget that slow mornings filled with a little calm can do wonders for the mind, body and soul. I love that I'm not internally pouting about anything right now and am embracing things instead. I think that's a good sign for the things to come and I feel good about it all! 

Time Away, Feasts And Fitness, Back To Routines

This weekend was pure bliss with just an overnight away that made all the difference. The big thing for me this year, just 3 years after the car accident, this was the first year I didn't wear that trauma as an accessory all day. 

Being away gave me time to think. One overnight away with no distractions, just us, just our needs, not those of the tiny dictator, was a completely awakening experience, and long overdue. We managed to go back to basics, if you will. We didn't even turn on the TV. 

With all that time and freedom, and too many mirrors in the place we were staying, it did make me a little too introspective and self-judgmental so this morning I really tried to recharge on staying body positive and productive.

I had to get a little real with myself this weekend and sometimes those moments suck. about 12 years ago I got really real about my diet and exercise. I was on weight watchers and I was working out sometimes twice a day, but doing spin, weights, running and yoga. 

Weight watchers put a LOT into perspective, especially as a 20 something who had alcohol as just part of the lifestyle. Once you can drink, you drink and go out non-stop, or so my friends and I did. Alcohol is quick calories.

A lot of the weight watchers tools, I still use but with parenthood and full time working, I also don't have that much time to eat, regardless. I've had to become more mindful with eating, especially over the last two years and it's not quiet a diet but just paying attention.

So here is what I know: I'll never ever not eat carbs, but limiting them is no problem. I keep bread away from it becoming a snack, yup I'm that person. I need fruit to help keep a balanced diet because I suck at eating fruit. Veggies are my life blood. The worst thing I do is make a huge salad with spinach, carrots, tomatoes, croutons, sometimes a form of protein, and cheese and cover it in home-made oil and vinegar spice dressing. That is my favorite ever, my default, and my biggest pig out.

I don't order pizza anymore. My husband makes epic homemade pizza and that I love. I also love tacos. Salad and pasta are my at home go to if my husband hasn't make some kind of chicken, veggie rice thing. We almost never eat out.

I love pretzels but am mindful not to keep them around. My other huge cheat snack and vice is oil-popped popcorn. The worst thing I indulge in is dessert because my kid is into it. I try really really hard to buy dessert that I don't like that she does, and just drink all the tea before bed so I don't snack.

What's sad is I don't even eat that much, and yet I'm having such a rough time with my body image. It didn't help that part of my blissful weekend landed us at the outlet mall and I tried on my first pair of gap jeans in a long time, in both of my "normal" sizes and it got defeating, fast.

I found this workout quote and mantra of "workout because you love your body not because you hate it," and I'm carrying that close with me. I don't hate my body, but right now, it feels like I have to work awfully hard to stay comfy and I dislike that. I'm very much working on my patience for my body getting used to new routines but this weekend was rough.

We ate an amazing feast. I rarely go all in and indulge. We had appetizers, salad, main course, dessert, cappuccino, and it was just amazing. I haven't had a dinner like that in years. We ate like things. I didn't feel bad for being a foodie and enjoying life, but I struggle because I bloat and was carrying a lot of swollen water weight that day.

This is a brand new week, and I'm hatching some methods to the madness and getting ready to get back to routines and to even make some new ones. 

I'm so grateful for the time that was shared this weekend and the conversations and quality time, but  I'm definitely feeling incredibly introspective and awake right now. I'm thinking of some new subjects to blog about and welcome any ideas. Happy Monday readers! Thanks for the weekend away!

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."

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. 

I'd Rather Not Be The Bad Day Blogger

The other day my best friend across an ocean messaged me. He messaged me this long message about his truly horrible day filled with work and boss dispute, a small injury and a broken water heater meaning, cold showers until it could be fixed. Although I very much love Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad day, all I could think was, he "Roseanna-Danna'd" me. 

Not to date myself here, but I was raised with amazing comedic appreciation including that of early and original SNL. Gilda Radner was a comedic genius in comedy and I loved her character on Weekend Update "Roseanne, Rosanna Danna." She had one person complaining in a letter which I then found in a Hallmark card years later for a favorite Aunt, and when I heard my friend's annoyed plea all I could hear and picture was her:

Honestly when he messaged me, I smiled. Not because he had a bad day, but because I loved that he wasn't complaining at me, but rather that after all of that, he wanted to come share the day with me as if thinking, "Ali will make me feel better." I offered all the good vibes and apologies for a yuck day promising a better tomorrow.

This morning was my turn for the bad day. If I'm being honest it's been a rough run all around. It's been quite a roller coaster and many tests of my anxiety, depressive whims and my ability to push through and adult. I'm anything but easy going and these past few weeks have been quite a trial for me.

Today was the breaking point and I really wanted to write it up as an "F this Friday." But I took a lot of deep breaths and pushed through. It was one of those crappy financial situations which wasn't the end of the world but really sucked. One of those things that wasn't your fault really, but wasn't arguable. It was a waste of money and resources, not to mention time, all of which I detest! It was not a great start to my day.

I figured I had a few choices: I could reach out to my co-complainers, aka my friends that always support my annoyances with the fact that they, too, would be annoyed by said situation. I could cry in my car, always good for a day to be not okay. OR, I could therapize through it, meaning using the tools from therapy to get me to not hit melt down mode.

I posted some Pinterest motivational pictures in a collage, and boy I LOVE a good collage, on Instagram and had some of my favorite people reach out to me and remind me I'm loved through the muck, especially when I'm hating myself, and that it's just a bad day. And then I sorted it all out. I felt better.

It was after a major talk session and some light complaining that I realized, not only am I not alone in this kind of thing, meaning it happens to the best of us, but just two days before I had a message from a bestie that exhibited the same kind of day. And then I was reminded of the always amazing skit of "Roseanne Rosanna Danna." I've left it below for your entertainment, but to sum up, rather than be the Bad Day Blogger, I'm with "Roseanne Rosanna Danna," "It's always something," and if it's not one list, it's another but the best thing we can do with it all, is at least have a laugh.

Happy Friday!

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 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!

Allergic To The Best Weather Of The Year

When I was younger the ideas of allergies was like, when you were allergic to flowers or peanut butter or bee stings and you would puff up, your throat would close up or you could like die. They never warn you that allergies just randomly show up in adulthood to better hinder you from regular functionality without drugs.

It happens the same two times every year for me: October and March. And it's always during the most beautiful weather. It's the weather where you want your windows open and fresh air everywhere, but you can't because you already are covered in boogers and phlegm from when you took a walk earlier.

We have gorgeous oak trees in Safety Harbor. We have a huge one in our front yard. It keeps our house nice and cool in the summer too. We are all ridiculously allergic to it, but it's still a fabulous tree.

My favorite events are in March, and end of October, early November and all are usually taken down a few pegs from my allergies rearing their ugly heads. Besides yelling at the concert, being less hydrated because beer was cheaper than water, and adding being tired on top of it has made my allergies all kinds of unhappy. Not to mention how much I've been outside.

I don't have to miss work; I can still function but boy does my head feel filled with phlegm. It's a gorgeous picture, you're welcome. It's sniffing, sneezing and blowing noses along with deep smoky voices and sinus pressure. It's quite a picnic.

I usually do Benadryl at night and Sudafed by day. This is the only time when I think drugs are my friends and they become a necessary ritual. 

So here I am, ready for my favorite 5K of the year, the Nolan's St. Patrick's Day 5K for St. Baldrick's foundation. It's a great crowd, you get a commemorative cup after and free beer if you want, I never do. You get a shirt and it's under $30. Plus I can walk to it. 

When I do a race I only have one goal: no stopping, so no giving up. I hear my trainer constantly saying, "A slow job is better than a fast walk." And I keep that every time I slow down a little because I'm not feeling so hot or things start to hurt, and I always love that accomplished feeling after I hit the finish line.

I'll be an outwardly horrible person by admitting that my favorite part of any race, is running past the "Fit moms." The "Fit moms" are the moms that look like they've never had a baby and don't even have rolls when they sit, and 9 times out of 10, they burn out first, answer a phone call or slow down to find a friend or a kid, and I jog past them at my steady pace.

I also always get a sick sense of pleasure from the fact that the 19 year-olds who are a foot taller and a good 50lbs less than I am in weight always end up walking at some point. That's right, this slow mom has the endurance!

Even with my allergy stuff kicking my butt I completed my 5K. The morning went nothing like I'd hoped but I did sneak an allergy nap so that's good. We got a little rain but for the next few weeks I'm just settled into the misery that is allergy season, before it starts to get gross and hot for another 7 months. 

Even as I took the dog on a walk with the weather overcast but temperate I was all stuffy and my head was killing me. So as I wind down another successful, but busy weekend, I feel really ready for an early bed time filled with Benadryl and hope for a less snotty week. 

I put in the effort to enjoy the weather at least, so there's that, no matter how allergic I may be. Happy Sunday readers!

All The Lessons, All The Tools

I did an Instagram post the other night because I was frustrated and sad and wanted to express that without whining or being ungrateful, but needed a bit of a "vent session." I've been working diligently on being more apt to "roll with the punches." I most identify with the idea that I'm "Anxious Alison," and planning and changing planning can be seriously difficult for me. Sometimes I can thrive in the chaos and keep the steady hand, other times I'm one second away from just screaming into my pillowcase. It can be quite a ride.

Last year during some chaos where self care had fallen to the wayside, I was miserable and mentally collapsing, I decided to take control and use my favorite coping mechanism, working out, to it's fullest advantage. For the first time in 5 years I joined a gym and went back to Spin classes. When I started I was averaging 4 spin classes a week and 3 days of boot camp. Then as things at home became worse I was adding in more double workouts to try and keep myself steady and balanced in the mayhem.

This year, because of budgeting, adulting and the gym losing instructors and messing with schedules, I had to get rid of the gym membership. Sad day. Now plenty of friends have said, "Gyms are only like $10 a month just go here, there and so and so." Yeah I need my classes, I work best in that environment and, we have zero extra money so, gotta do what ya gotta do.

A neighbor friend had a membership at the same gym and wanted a buddy to keep her in spin so she said we could go every Tuesday. I was psyched. This was the pick me up I needed and it wouldn't kill me to be slightly social and get to know her better. Welp, this happened all of one week before things changed and that was no longer an option. So, back to relying on me, myself and I.

This morning I am happy to report that after texting hubby at 8PM last night that "I'm running tomorrow whether I want to or not," I got my butt outta bed and ran 2 miles, and I feel frigging amazing. No, this isn't just endorphins or some weird runners high.

I realized something. Everything always goes back to the lessons and tools I learned over a decade ago in my therapy. Little things are bigger things in the grand spectrum and I need to work on some little things. Last week I really sucked at self care; this week, it has been tantamount to my success and I shall explain.

Last week I stayed up too late for no reason. Texting, watching re-runs of the same shows I've been watching for years, stressing about all the things I needed to do and worrying about things I could never control. I was tossing and turning about fading friendships, reaching out, not reaching out, drawing boundaries, not drawing boundaries, and things that make me unsettled. Last week I was exhausted, I didn't eat right, and I was cranky.

Now, self care looks different for everyone. For me, it is early bedtimes and new, healthy routines. I've been WAY better at adjusting things with less mental stress and not allowing my routines to "manage" me. I've been very attentive to when I need to be more gentle with myself. This week I asked my husband to meal prep some things for me this week and he did. This week I have been asleep by 9 every night and up by 5 every morning. And last night I started something, a new hope-to-be habit, that is LONG over-due.

Last night, with a cup of Sleepy Time tea and a tucked in kiddo one room away, I read for twenty minutes before bed, and it was a book I've been trying to read since December, but keep getting distracted and taken away from it. Not only did it help me get sleepy, but I felt so awesome investing that small amount of time into myself, and something for just me and my tired brain.

On another note, and this will bring the point around here eventually, at Church they started this experimental biblical reflection-type thing and instead of being lackluster, lazy and scoffing, I said "yes" and jumped in head first. Again with rolling with the punches, quickly it didn't work out as planned and I was left with one mentor and ally, a favorite mom within the church in fact, as someone to kind of check in with from time to time, instead of a small group atmosphere as intended.

The first week was okay; I liked the general spirit (pun intended) of what the exercises exemplified but things got heavy, fast. Instead of exploration it became homework. I reached out to a couple people a few times but, this was clearly meant to be group discussion with personal reflection and notating. It wasn't making me happy, or more plainly, it was "not sparking joy," if we need to conform to pop culture references. So I took a step back and thought, "Okay, so I put my best foot forward and handled the fallout of plans really well, and I tried to maintain this solo with some individual outreach but I'm definitely not hitting the target so then why am I stressing about something that I'm getting nothing out of?" EXACTLY!

It all came back to self care, lessons, and tools from what felt like I learned forever ago. This isn't to say I'm done with "church stuff;" this isn't to say I'm done trying new things. But I'm definitely learning my boundaries of saying "yes and no." And this includes saying yes and no to myself, and to others.

You may be thinking, okay, the gym isn't exactly a luxury and who doesn't make time to read a damn book? ME! The gym IS a luxury for me and I've disclosed previously as a writer, I'm the worst reader ever. And it dawned on me as to why I revert to some coping mechanisms so easily and why shaking things up can be daunting, so here we go:

My dad was a routine-driven dude. At 7AM he'd be planning dinner and every night that was in the dining room at the table at 6PM. When my mom left, in all the craze and turmoil, my dad gave up the dining room table nonsense and we used to live it up, eating in the "TV Room." We'd watch the Simpsons together, Friends, Will and Grace, Mad About You, Ellen, Cheers re-runs, Seinfeld, X-Files, Full House, and so on and so forth, all while eating dinner together. This became my favorite thing ever because instead of wallowing in the changes, we would just enjoy each other's company and lose ourselves in the plot lines and worlds of the characters on a screen.

And last night I realized that when I feel so out of control, so tired and beaten down by life and schedules, anxiety and depression, and at odds with my world, I re-watch Friends for the thousandth time and absorb the drama. I re-watch the Office and can't believe how oblivious Michael Scott is. I stay up late laughing at Seinfeld and remembering how many times that show was so right on and ahead of it's time. Because that's my version of "comfort food."

And while I love books and can devour a good series with the best of them, it's just not my go to for trying times. But the change in routine yesterday, although ever so slight, was just what the doctor ordered. It allowed me to effectively wind down and was calm and quiet. It let me read WITHOUT distraction, and distraction is my seemingly my forte.

Between the read and the run, I'm looking forward to tonight and my morning runs from here on out. I'm happy I'm back to "normal" bed times and not stressing over schedules, projects and things I can't force myself into. I'm discovering new peace. I didn't realize how volatile things have been, until this peace feeling came over me, and I must say, I just love it, and am more and more grateful for it. 

All the lessons, all the tools, I know them and I have them at my disposal, ready to use. It's easy to embrace the lazy and not do all the things. It's far more rewarding to get off your butt and get things done! Or, so I feel it is lately!