Rise of Creative* Fitness

Cool things are afoot in the fitness world, folks: Beachbody is merging with Powder Blue Productions.

I won't pretend to have a complete handle on this thing, but I can tell you that two fitness powerhouses are joining forces in a way that I believe is new to the fitness world.

From what I understand, many of the formats that you love in the gym like PiYo and Hip Hop Hustle will soon be available at home in your living room just as TurboKick and Les Mills PUMP are now.

Conversely, many of the formats that you love at home like Insanity and Brazil Butt Lift will soon be available in a gym near you just as P90X technically is now, although I am not familiar with any locations that have it yet.

Before you start slipping into a someone-put-peanut-butter-in-my-chocolate and someone-put-chocolate-in-my-peanut-butter vortex, I implore you to keep your knickers on (and perhaps to remember that a chocolate and peanut butter combo is quite delicious): from where I'm sitting, this move is brilliant.

If you add the new a la carte movement in group exercise (like Group FX), that provides pay per event fitness "concerts" with fitness rockstars, I think I'm noticing a trend here. It looks like fitness is actually being led by the consumer for a change.

As a fitness fan, I have to say I dig it. I dig it a lot.

Consider your frustration with classes that you love being cut at random. It happened recently at a chain that I worked for. All of a sudden, Hip Hop Hustle and PiYo were gone from the schedule in a poof! Wham, bam, thank you but it's gone, ma'am. If you couldn't get it at your gym, you were pretty much screwed. You could go to another chain, but that might mean losing your favorite instructor or losing another program that the chain chose not to carry for whatever (very corporate) reason.

No matter what, there always seems to be a sacrifice when it comes to fitness and I'll admit, as an instructor, Beachbody coach and participant, I have wondered why.

Why can't I get the formats I love with instructors I love at times I love? Okay, maybe not all at once, but can I get a little Zumba at home on a Thursday at midnight? It's weird, but yes. Yes I can. There is a Wii game, an Xbox Kinnect game & a series of awesome Exhilarate videos to soothe my craving. I can find it at my local gym and even in the club (Zumba-ritas, anyone?) in some cities.

I suppose that's what I want for my other formats as well: Access. Let's keep it real, it is hard enough to include exercise in our daily lives without adding hoops and hurdles to complicate the process. When I find what I love, I want to be able to get my sweat on without a headache.

It's funny, when Beachbody launched Les Mills PUMP at home, a friend who taught PUMP in the gyms thought it was competition. Huh? I don't see TurboJam & TurboFire undermining TurboKick in gyms. Not in the least. If anything, my love for gym Turbo made me realize that I NEEDED access at home. Nothing is worse than a Turbo fiend without a funky groove and a punch/kick combo. Trust me, very twitchy & kinda sad.

So what does this mean for folks who aren't associated with either Beachbody or Powder Blue? Do you even have a runner in this race? I think so. In my opinion, community and choice are two of the most important factors in a successful fitness program. If you've been an island on the free weight floor, it might be cool to collaborate over the BodyBeast program. If you have been busting your hump at home with Insanity, you might take that craziness to a whole other level in a gym setting -- I know the Nike Training camp folks seem to love it and that is both an app and a class in the gym.

If nothing else, consider a world that allows you to choose your own date, time, location and format. Kinda cool, huh? With this kind of unprecedented creativity, your excuses would all but disappear. And, of course, that's a good thing!

In fitness and freedom,

*Rise of Creative is a reference to Richard Florida's book, Rise of the Creative Class (a good read!)

Always something more to be grateful for

Funny how a new place always brings new blessings and new opportunities. Yes, moving can be scary. But as a former military kid, child of divorced parents and as one who had a somewhat free-wheeling young adulthood, I have moved over 20 times and I can tell you that moving can be an amazing opportunity for renewal, growth and discovery.

For me, moving to Texas was life-changing. My marriage strengthened. My faith strengthened. I became a healthier, more balanced person whose time and energy allocation reflected her values.

Now, it seems, Louisiana is bringing me delicious little blessings anew.

It's been two years and a few months since I made a lifestyle change. Committing to fitness was a decision that was a long time coming and, like most folks, my journey is/was laden with a complicated web of emotion.

As a wife and mom, one of the major motivators for my transition was that I wanted to be a better me for my family. The strange thing is that my family kind of complicated things. My husband is not really into fitness. He's always been naturally slim and active in the "I played ball in school" kind of way. My younger son is also naturally thin and he is also naturally active -- playing outside, etc.

My 12 year old has my bone structure, my father's build, and my natural reluctance to physical exertion. He also has my love for food. And so, it seems, he's inherited my predisposition toward collecting and hoarding weight. When I caught the fitness bug, he was sure to keep his distance -- didn't want to risk catching it, ya know.

Like many parents who start this journey hoping to be a role model, I have found myself saddened by a new quandary. How to help my child understand the value of all we are and all we've worked to become and understand the importance of personal development.

I'm not one for sugar coating: Being overweight isn't okay and it's not cool. It also doesn't make you a bad person any more than any other unhealthy choice does. So how do I convey the need to feel good about himself at the same time I convey the need to work on areas that could make his quality of life better?

While many facets of my life were amazing in Texas, this one fact -- my son's personal battle with weight, activity and eating habits -- tugged at my heart strings.

It's true. He has developed into a kind person who is considerate of others and who has learned how to balance his emotions, engage the world respectfully and conduct himself with integrity. When I call this kid a rockstar, I am not overstating his indisputable awesomeness. Still, I know a little something about weight and the truth is, people shy away from activity and overindulge in food for a reason. As his mom, that's what I'm interested in helping him with next.

Of course, when you are 12 and male, your mom is probably dead last on the list of folks you want to talk fitness with. My son is no exception. Unfortunately, my hubby is a team sports guy and my son is not, so that's a dead end. For my love of Beachbody, he hasn't found a perfect fit in the Bb family. And my gym in Texas required him to be in the kids club (nursery) till 12. Upon his 12th birthday, he was released into general population & I am cool, but not quite that cool! He's still my baby & there is no way he's going out there to fend for himself on the fitness floor.

So whodathunkit? Life brings us to Youngsville, Louisiana and the big gym here is a little place called Red Lerille's Health & Racquet Club. This gym has a workout facility for kids from 9-12 so BOTH my sons can establish a healthy appreciation for fitness. There are basketball courts that kids can use (the ones at my old gym were there, but they were often contracted out to groups for practice and my kids were too young to use it anyway). I'm not sure if you can see it, but there's an indoor track that borders it on the second level. Again, I'm cool, but not that cool. Gotta get my mommy-stalk on!

There is a conditioning room just for kids from 9 -12 that has treadmills, stair masters, medicine balls, a TRX (OMg!), staffed conditioning hours (included with membership) and even kettle bells and Nautilus machines (for later). And there are pools with open areas to swim -- like with an actual stroke -- in open water.

Click here for more photos of Red's.

This place is insane & it's more than I could have ever dreamed of. More than I knew to hope for. It's crazy to think that I could discover my heart's desire here, in very last place I could have ever expected. As you move through your day -- through your life -- I encourage you to remember the amazing possibilities that exist for you if you keep your heart open and trust in the infinite possibilities.

Here's to a new chapter in family and fitness. Can't wait to keep you posted!

Settling In - Youngsville, LA Part 1

Okay, it might just be me, but when I move to a new place I have a (secret) internal social scavenger hunt that starts up. It will probably sound nutz and I may be completely alone, but it's true. When I have satisfied this list, it's like I can finally take a deep breath and cozy in to my new digs.

The funny thing is that I didn't realize that I do it until today. You might just share this little quirk, who knows. Here is a quick recap of mine.

I drove into downtown Lafayette (which is kind of an oxymoron, but whatevs, it is what it is) to find dirty gas stations, Church's chicken restarants and narrow streets. Cool, I think, that's like Ybor City -- hometown digs. Of course, here no one is speaking Spanish.

As I moved into Youngsville, things got country. Real country. I'm talking beaters, jalopies and frame houses nestled in sugar cane fields. Cool, I think, my family is from Groveland and Wildwood. Been here, done this.

I pull into my street and I start to feel my lungs constricting. I don't know this mix. Not personally, at least. There are turn of the century homes, 1960 ranch style (like mine), what looks to be an antebellum mansion diagonally behind me and a row of mobile homes scattered in the mix.

Um. I don't know about this.

As the day progresses, I see random dogs running up and down their property and shirtless barefoot kids throwing rocks for fun.

Um. I don't know about this.

There are other things that make me feel uneasy, like I am most certainly not in Kansas (or Texas or Florida to be more precise) anymore. Things that remind me that not only am I in the country, but I am in the deep South, like folks that seem alien in style, presence and possibly even mindset.

I start to feel like I can't breathe. What have I done? Where have I brought my family? I think of pressing questions, you know, the truly important stuff like where will I go to get my eyebrows thredded?

In the midst of my panic, we lunch in Southeast Lafayette. At McAlister's. Heck there is a McAlister's in Southlake. My friend Robin's husband works for them. McAlister's is in the Target shopping plaza. I know Target! 

I waltz in, partially to get home stuff, partially to fulfill my need for the familiar, and it happens. I see a woman in workout clothes with three rambunctous boys orbiting her cart. Okay, people workout here. Check. I still haven't found a single gym with group ex, but these folks are working out somewhere & it's only a matter of time.

I see another with hombre-dyed hair, tan skin and a maxi tube top dress. Style. Check. I see a third chatting on a cell phone, her nails are done and she's mentioning grabbing sushi for lunch. Sushi. Check!

I see another African American woman with what appear to be threaded brows and a great hair cut (yes, silly stuff like that matters & no, it's not racist. I think it's normal to want to see your own identity mirrored in your environment.). I stalk her and get her stylist's information. Hair stylist. Check!

No dice on the threading, but it's early & hope springs eternal.

Somewhere between the bath mats & the broom, I feel my chest relax and my shoulders fall just a bit. This town may be foreign in a million ways but there are many, many things that feel like home.

As I exit the store, I look up and see a family: African American mom, white freckled dad in khakis, and two biracial boys bouncing around the pair. I don't know them from anywhere, but I look at them, full on. They seem harried and exhausted in ways that only suffering through Target with children can cause, but that's all. They don't look oppressed or tortured or praying for a way out of this town.

I realize that this is what I've been waiting for, for assurance that every quiet fear I've had about the potential for racism in this state, this town, this move may be a challenge, but it won't be the defining experience. As my breathing shifts into a fully relaxed state I realize that I have been waiting for this final thing on my unspoken checklist.

And I know. I know it will all be fine because I've got everything I need.

The Cost of Fitness

In my (new) line of work, I often get questions that have to do with the cost of fitness. These discussions take many forms. Sometimes, we are talking about money. Sometimes we are talking about time. Sometimes we are talking about behavior modification. At the end of the day, I spend a good deal of time talking about the cost of fitness & I'd (surprisingly) like to spend a little more.

Here is my theory. EVERYTHING has a cost. Everything.

Obesity has a cost. Crumby diets have a cost. Low levels of physical fitness have a cost.

Don't think for one moment that it's inexpensive to keep buying new clothes in bigger sizes or something new because everything else makes you look fat. Don't think for one moment that restaurant food isn't far, far more expensive than home cooking. Where I live, beef costs more than vegetables. Don't think for one second that injuries related to obesity -- like the mystery fracture in your foot or leg or hip, the one you got from everyday movement or the breathing issues or the lethargy or the blood sugar problems -- are inexpensive. They most certainly are not.

Fitness also has a cost. You have to make time to work out. Of course, you have to make time to sit in front of the television & hit the drive through as well. You have to pay for at home workouts or gym memberships & these aren't cheap. Even free workouts like walking, running or biking take some level of financial investment for shoes and clothes, etc. If you research online resources, you'll be using time to do so. Time to read, understand, organize and implement your workout.

Convenience -- to both ends -- has a cost. Prepared foods have a price. Sedentary options - cable TV, video games, hours spent downing high calorie foods & drinks while you talk - have a price. Conversely, convenience for fitness costs money as well. Trainers save you planning and research while providing motivation and expertise, but they aren't free. At home DVDs - the good ones -- are created for maximum results in a prepackaged system, but that takes moolah. Bootcamps & group ex programs combine the benefits of both with the added plus of socialization, but -- you guessed it -- they take money.

Lastly, there is the issue of time. Let's face it, you didn't get out of shape and/or overweight by accident. It took decisions regarding activity & nutrition over a sustained period of time. Losing weight requires the same commitment. It will take time. When I was on a weight loss journey, I would tell myself that if I can lose this weight in half the time it took me to gain it, then that's a 200% improvement. Not too shabby.

Ultimately, the truth is that it all has a cost. In the end, you have to examine the payoff -- because you are getting something from whatever choice you are making, we are humans & that's how we are wired. I find myself listening to the folksy voice of Dr. Phil: "So how's that workin for ya?"

Until next,

Thanks, for nothin'

Ah, so we are 3 days in to the month of thanksgiving and already the fur is a-flying.

Today's question: Is it appropriate to place expectations on gratitude?

I have my own theories on whether it is appropriate to place expectations on people's actions in general, but we are getting ahead of ourselves here. For now, the issue I'd like to explore is that of expectations for gratitude.

Specifically, what I expect you to be thankful for and how I expect you to demonstrate that appreciation.

This week Facebook status updates in my little corner of the universe have been sharing what folks are thankful for. Sounds innocent enough, right? Apparently not.

You know that tradition of not naming names during acceptance speeches lest someone be forgotten? There has to be a little wisdom there. I've heard of a couple different scenarios in which a person's gratitude shoutout left someone feeling snubbed.

Are thank you's like chewing gum? Should you not dare to "unwrap a stick" unless you brought enough for everyone?

Now here's a sticky wicket if I've ever seen one. What if I'm thankful for friend A, but now friend B is hurt? Am I supposed to not be thankful to friend A? Should I keep it a secret, lest I offend? If so, how is that fair to friend A? If this is the case, when does it end? And -- I know I'm being a tad ballsy here, but what the hey -- at what point do adults need to take responsibility for their own choices?

Call me crazy, but when we act in kindness I thought it we were supposed to do so with no strings attached. Then again, that would be me extending my expectations on others and this is how we ended up here in the first place.

Long sigh.

So today's blog is less about me discovering insight and more about me arriving at a conclusion without any real way too express my reasonining. For me it's a gut feeling that says sometimes, every now and again, folks might need to take a breath, pull on their big girl (or boy) pants, and get over themselves.

On the flipside, I've been there -- on the corner of "What about me?" and "Why do I even bother?" avenues. I'm not proud of it, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it stings when I contribute and someone else gets the accolades.

Petty? Maybe.

Human? Undeniably.

I can't help wondering about this one and wishing I had the sense that I know exactly where I stand on it. Moreover, I can't help wondering what others think so give me whatchagot!

Until next,

Body Attack @ Red Barn

Okay, let me first say that I realize this title sounds like a horror flick or an adult film of some sort. I know. While there was grunting and sweating, I assure you it's not that kind of blog.

Yesterday I attended the Red Barn health club's launch of two Les Mills programs: Body Attack and Sh'Bam. Here are my thoughts on the experience.

My friend Nidrah & I shared the 30 minute drive down 820 to Mansfield and the first thing that we discovered was that it's a real barn. Like, cows & pigs & hay real. Okay. Second thought, is that these folks know how to host an event. There's a parking attendant & friendly staff members to welcome us in. Love it! & the experience is all up hill from there.

Speaking of uphill, they have an all terrain track outdoors with whimsical touches like vintage cars. Nice. I'm excited within the first few steps inside. A stage with a vintage car as a backdrop & sparkly lights that read "Red Barn." There's also what looks like a church pew in the back where folks are stowing water & gym bags. Now I'm giggling. This is going to be a blast.

Then the workout begins & we are sweating and grunting so much we don't have time to give each other "what were we thinking" looks. We are in "the zone." For Insanity lovers, Body Attack is like chocolate cake with ice cream on top -- goooooood stuff!!! Athletic style training with enthusiastic motivation & fun music. Loved it.

Then came Sh'Bam. You may wonder what on earth you could possibly want to do after 55 minutes of plyometrics & athletic drills. Typically, I'd tell you nothing. Maybe a little couch time with a bucket of water. However, I have to say, that Sh'Bam was a fun way to punctuate such an insane workout. Instructor Nicole Sanchez was a hoot! I'm still not sure which was more fun -- the workout or the instructor -- but I know that when it was time to go I was a little sad & that's saying something when it comes to an intense morning of fitness.

So that's the scoop. A unique setting, a challenging workout, an encouraging & welcoming staff. What more could I ask for? I'll tell you: I'd love to do it again soon!!!

Until next,

A Cheeky Confession

Well, the time I've spent with Leandro has been fabulous. Brazil Butt Lift was good ole cheek smackin fun, but now it's time to move on to Brett's Rev Abs.

The plan is to kick start Rev Abs on Thursday, 9/1 and work through the program until December. I'll take that merry old month off & hit P90X2 hard come January 1.

I have to say that it feels odd starting a new program without having shared the Brazil Butt Lift experience with you. I kind of feel like I snuck that one in -- all DL & what not. Here's the truth of it:

1. I just can't bring myself to take a pic of my booty -- not the pre or post booty. Sorry. I know I should be a bigger person, but the very thought of showing ya'll the bum bum makes me do a brown girl blush - which you can't see, but it's sooooo there! I will say, that I've received my husband's full approval and he is willing to provide references upon request. (Not really, my husband is painfully shy &, per the new booty, blissfully happy.)

2. Speaking of the brown girl thing, it's kind of embarrassing to admit that I even needed booty intervention. I mean, we should have that in the bag right? Wrong! Oh, lord, so wrong. I have never had any booty to speak of & I come from a line of flat & wides so consider that one myth that is officially de-bunked! I knew Leandro's moves were working when folks started commenting on my rump. One woman actually bemoaned a sagging rump while dismissing mine as "natural." Ha! Natural my a$$. It's all Ipanema walks & Samba tornadoes over here baby.

3. I have to say that the whole process has been one of those closet endeavors. You know, the secret workouts you do and only talk about after it works. Kinda like getting hair extensions, new boobs or a tummy tuck. No one announces it before. You use back entrances & call in sick. But after, you're all nonchalant when someone notices that you look great but can't quite put their finger on why.

And so, here I stand with my bum finally bigger than my gut. It's kinda nice. & yes, you will now be tempted to sneak a peek at the old rumpus-ka-dumpus the next time we meet. It's cool. I'm on the other side of the hump now (excuse the pun).

Now, the plan is to attack my tummy. The basics are in place. By some unexpected miracle, I've managed to pull the post-cesarean "apron" back into place. I even have fledgling muscles in place. I have just enough success at having things I NEVER even imagined that I say, what the heck? I'm goin for it & I'm goin public - so there!

Do I seriously think I can do it? You bet this sweet rump I do!

Until next,