Tiny Victories

One of the (many) reasons that I started working out this spring was my kids. It was very important for me to project all of the things that being a fit mom will project: healthy eating habits, physical activity, fun and positivity.

I've always tried to set goals and share discussions with them regarding what it will take to reach them, but physicality has never truly been a major part of my relationship with them.

Having two sons, I kind of hid behind the excuse that daddy will play with them; I am here to nurture and love them. Then daddy got busy with a new job and mommy, well, mommy was still pretty much holding down the position of sofa jockey. I didn't do heat, or sweat, or discomfort and playing with my boys in the Texas heat meant experiencing all three.

It didn't take long to know this was wrong. To know what the real source of irritation was when I had to go upstairs to answer a question (that it was physically exhausting) or to understand that my older son was putting on weight because he was spending more and more time with me (fast food + AC + sofa = 10 lbs on his 49 inch frame).

So now it's been 4 months since my own personal commitment to moving toward all over fitness and the tiny victories are starting to come rolling in.

For Mother's Day, my 7 year old listed my weight as 30 lbs (God bless that boy!) and said that the activities he enjoys most are playing with me and cooking with me. Image after image in his little book dedicated to me featured me active -- playing, singing, laughing, chasing.

I'm guessing you know I cried. And cried. And cried.

I was touched, but it was more than just mother's pride. It was plain old fashioned pride, the kind that comes from trying something that's hard and coming out on the other side with something to show for your efforts.

On Tuesday, I passed the boys' school and saw my 10 year old standing outside at PE. He shouted, "Mom!" and when a few friends looked around, he said, "That's my mom, yeah, she's doing her morning run." I felt so proud. Heck, I'm crying now as I type.

Today, I spent the morning with my 7 year old, jumping and dancing and playing in the sun. Then I hustled over to the 10 year old's class where I joined a couple of other moms and led the kids through Simon Says, Heads Up Seven Up and the Hokey Pokey -- all fairly physical games, all games in which I participated.

I burned 1400 calories by 1:30 in the afternoon and I didn't feel exhausted in the least. I felt a little giddy to tell you the truth. I'd kind of forgotten how fun it is to play.

You see, this is what I wanted. I wanted it all, the full spectrum of life and not just the numbed existence that comes from cocooning yourself in inactivity & food. Tiny victories, yes, but magical ones nonetheless.

Until next,

Fun Fitness Find: Blinged Bodybuggs from blingmythang.com

My newest fun fitness find is my blinged bodybugg armstrap from blingmythang.com. (Big thanks to Jen Boatman!)

Do I need it? No, but I love it!

I got it in the mail today and you'd have thought it was Christmas! I was a blur of woohoos and baby, did I need it after having not one, not two, but three servings of stove top cornbread stuffing with oysters & cranberries.

I opened my blinged thang and felt like Cinderella getting a dress for the ball. I high tailed it out of here and hit the gym -- again -- just so I could take it out for a twirl.

I know that no one needs fancy styles or clothes to work out. There's a woman who walks the trail I run who wears some sort of old leather flats on her morning journey. It also looks like she's wearing cut off warmup pants and her husband's old jersey. It's the same outfit every time I see her and I am certain that she is burning calories and feeling great.

She shakes her head at me the way you indulge a silly child as I run by, clad in matching outfits, bodybugg on one arm, lime green IPod on the other, Head bobbing to Ludacris. I can only imagine what she'll think when she sees me whizzing by with my thang just blinging.

I don't care, I'm Cindy in glass slippers running like it's five till midnight.

And yes, my husband just smiles at me with that smile that says, "That's why I love you baby, because you are sweet, but just a little bit crazy."

It's all good.

Here's the deal: When I work out, I can think of a million reasons to just stop. To sit my rump down on the concrete or wood or spongy gym floor and say, "To heck with it." Then I catch a glimpse of myself and I see a bright happy color -- the lime green or pink of my shirt, the screaming orange of my Ryka shoes, coordinated blacks of my pants and visor -- and I look the part, I feel the part.

Truth be told, that money used to go toward burgers and fries. Now I cook dinner and pool the cash for workout toys. How can that be wrong?

I like pretty things. I like to feel good when I catch my own reflection -- Lord knows it's been a while since I could truly say that. For now, I feel like my blinged thang is the equivalent of Dorothy's ruby slippers; it is sparkly and it can help me tap the strength inside to be where I so long to stand.

Until next,

Mantra De Jour: Adapt-Innovate-Overcome

And so, before I say anything more, I have an announcement: I write you today, 1 pound lighter.

You'll never guess how I did it -- I ate less and burned more. I know! Who knew? Crazy!!!

But seriously folks, that's the secret: 3500 calories in deficit. Every time.

Now on to the mantra of the day, "Innovate, Adapt & Overcome."

There's a guy with a suspicious amount of energy in my Sunday Shadow Boxing class who shouted this phrase during the class a couple of weeks ago. At the time, the instructor was having technical difficulties that amounted to no microphone and no music. Her attempt to remain upbeat was impressive, but the tell-tale hives showing up on her neck were not fooling me.

This is when Super Enthusiastic guy (while bouncing in place like Tigger) said, "That's cool. Innovate, Adapt & Overcome."

In the week and a half since, his three word phrase has become my mantra. When I see a challenge, I try to figure out which of the three paths will lead to a solution. Here are a few cases in point:

Innovate
Try something new or a new way of seeing/approaching what you are already doing. For me, it's been running. This is something new, something terrifying, and something exhausting. Still, it's jumpstarted my cardio stamina like nothing else. Today I finished Zumba and felt like I could do more. Three months ago I wanted to throw up 30 minutes in.

Little by little, yard by yard, I'm running longer and faster. I'm also getting a little more efficient thanks to a few tips from Betty the Meanie. It's amazing how trying something new or trying something old in a new way can take you to a place you didn't think you could reach.

Adapt
Sometimes, the key is to simply accept what's happening and figure out a way to make it work. For whatever reason, food is a major issue for me from 1 to 4 p.m. almost every day. This is usually when I screw up on a grand scale. I've tried many options, but the fact is, that this is a struggle. My new plan? I simply adapt to the situation. No one major meal, but a deconstructed one that simply finds me grazing like the munch hound I am during this window of time.

I like to eat and I think about food on an unnaturally consuming level during these times. That's cool, I am who I am. Now the trick is to find a way to adapt to the situation, to change at least one factor so that all the pegs fit nicely into place. So far the deconstructed meal is working for me (I mean, I lost a pound people, so that clearly makes me an expert -- LOL).

Overcome
Then there are the icky things that lurk on the periphery of my fitness program. Things like that funky Spartacus Workout that Betty the Meanie gave me. It's got mountain climbers and T-pushups for crying outloud! First of all, the very sound of something like a Spartacus Workout sounds crazy to me. Doing it hurts like the dickens. But doing it alone? finding the motivation? That is just plain insane.

You see, I may like sexy hips & arms, but I also like not feeling like I'm going to die. Thinking about this workout reminds me that I will probably feel like I'm going to die if I do it. And that's exactly why I have to do it, at least once a week.

As you may or may not remember, I recently had to start at ground zero with two exercises -- pushups and lunges -- because my form was wrong. Bad form can cause problems like working the wrong muscle and can result in odd physcial structure and even pain. I was humiliated to have to relearn push ups after I prided myself on finally graduating to the "real" kind and not "girl" push ups. Alas, my arms were not bending deep enough, se la vie.

Knowing this, Betty the Meanie introduced a new exercise routine that only includes four exercises (the good news) that you repeat 5 times (the not so good news) in the span of 20 minutes. One of these, is a round of 10 push ups. Seriously? If you are quick with math, you'll catch that this means 50 pushups in 20 minutes.

Ah, but we are overcoming, are we not? So guess who cranked the things out -- me! And I'm ecstatic, because guess whose tatas are lifting -- that's right, me, baby!

For me, the major challenge associated with this little mantra, Innovate-Adapt-Overcome, is that it forces me to push into the unfamiliar and, truthfully, uncomfortable zones. It forces me to try something new when I feel very stupid, like the lunges Betty the Meanie has me doing across the width of the gym in front of everybody like a total yahoo.

It means recognizing that some challenges need to be conquered and others simply require an adjustment on my part. I love food and I don't plan to stop eating it any time soon or to replace it with disgusting things or fads or whatever. But I realize that there has to be some change, some adaptation.

I also realize that there are some things that really suck and just aren't fun no matter how you slice it, but that have to be done to get the results I'm seeking. At those times, I just have to man up (or woman up in my case) and get the thing done.

Adapt-Innovate-Overcome. I like this one & I hope it brings you some encouragement as well.

Until next,

Thrilled on Thursday

Okeedokey, so I had my biweekly training session with Betty the Meanie today. You may expect groans, but I'm here with nothing but a bucket of wahoos!

As you may know, I've been on a plateau for the last 4 weeks. That's right, what started as "Woohoo! I lost twelve pounds!!!" had dwindled down to "What the heck? Twelve stinkin pounds?" And I was feeling a wee bit frustrated.

Luckily, I didn't lose my determination. I've been pushing since last week to get my mojo back and saying screw the scale for the most part. Secretly, though, I was harboring the hope that I'd drop at least half a pound, but when Weigh-in Wednesday rolled around I remained deadlocked.

I screamed a few comments that are not appropriate for delicate ears and then resigned myself to the ugly truth: Betty the Meanie was going to have to step in & do some straightenin'.

So where's the good news? Why, you may ask, am I thrilled on this fine Thursday?

I'll tell you. First, I lost .8 inches on my waist. Sweet! I lost .5 on the old tatas (thank you, Lord!), and although the scale remained unchanged, I lost three pounds of fat & gained three pounds of muscle. Sweet!

Rule #1: 3500 calories = 1 lb. Always. Either way.

• 3500 deficit in a week? one pound lost.
• 3500 surplus in a week? one pound gained.

Betty printed my food intake report & lo and behold, my average caloric intake was equal to my average caloric burn. In plain English, that's a standard formula for a plateau. Not exactly rocket science :o).

She also went through my food choices and gave me a little insight into where I was going wrong & what was just fine & dandy. Here are the highlights:

Rule #2: If it comes from the earth, it's good. If it comes from man, not so much (Not that man isn't lovely).

Apparently, margerine is pretty much the devil. It does nothing for you & is rejected by even maggots & flies. Butter in moderation is the better choice.

Coke is way better than diet Coke. I FINALLY got an answer to the aspertame/high fructose corn syrup question. Turns out that both trigger insulin production, but, since they are unnatural, insulin won't take them on. In the end, your body processes them as sugar & turns them to fat, but the insulin surplus causes you to crave sugar. You then, in turn, eat the "diet" food and the naughty food due to a biological craving (not just a psychological one).

And the M&M chocolate chip cookies that show up on that report? Well, turns out there are worse things in life. But they should come earlier rather than later. Convenient: I only crave them later so so long Mr. Cookie . . .

So there you are. I am thrilled this Thursday because the mystery is solved -- I'm not losing weight for obvious reasons that I have the capacity to control. I'm also free to avoid crap-tastic diet food and seize my healthier, tastier options. Nice.

Nothing like a freedom & control cocktail to leave you feeling giddy & buzzed and right now I'm feeling so good I may not need to drive for a while!

Until next,

Mojo Mayhem

I was reminded today that it's been a solid week since my last blog post.

So what, you may ask, was I doing with my time? Well, the first couple of days were spent pretty much dicking around. I had my first glass of wine in months -- I think since a margarita with my friend 2 months ago -- and it really knocked me out. I bought a bottle last week, which turned into three by Sunday. Let me tell you, I felt sluggish for days after my last sip (which, by the way, was on Tuesday night).

Also, the outdoor 5K journey turned out to be a full fledge immersion into allergyville. I was Puffy and Wheezy and Groggy and about three other Smurf characters all rolled up into one.

Did I mention the mystery knee pain and serious case of "where did my tits go-itis" I sustained last week? Or the fact that I learned that my form was completely wrong for lunges and pushups?

If you are not familiar with these woes, let me say that doing lunges incorrectly (which is to say, the way that doesn't hurt as much) will result in straining joints like your knees. Similarly, poor form on pushups will build your arms, but not your chest. If you are losing weight, your lady lumps sag a little and the only way to tighten the tatas is with solid chest conditioning.

Learning how to do both exercises correctly meant starting from square one and though I know it shouldn't, it just felt like a failure. On the other hand, not learning meant more knee pain and flat, floppy boobs.

Yeah, you guessed it. Those first few days were spent in woe-is-me-ville or at least riding around and trying to find the way out of that icky town.

The thing is, it isn't always easy to stay positive when you are trying to get your collective crap together. You know, there are just times when you get overwhelmed or feel pain or feel hung over. . .

I think what it all boils down to is that I misplaced my mojo and had to search like hell, retrace my steps, and really concentrate on getting it back.

Fortunately, I found it, scurrying around like that thing in the bad credit score commercial (bad 509!) and I had to nurse it back to civility. I pulled my fanny off the sofa -- and by the way if I may digress, it is absolutely amazing how fast a fanny can turn on you; after weeks of working it up, that sucker had just deflated before my eyes! -- at any rate, I got my deflated fanny off the sofa and hauled into yoga on Wednesday.

In yoga, I found the first little sprinklings of pixie dust, a known remedy for misguided mojos.

I threw down my crow and held that baby for 2 and a half breaths. My moment of glory went a little something like this: inhale 1-2-3-4, (tremble, shake) exhale 1-2-3-4, (tremble, shake) inhale 1-2-3-4, exhale 1-2-3-4, (tremble, shake) inhale 1-2 and topple over to avoid busting face on mat in front of strangers. Trust me, it was fantabulous.

I then decided to just go for it and ended up flipping my down dog position which isn't really as hard as it is scary. You go from all fours facing down, to lifting one leg toward the ceiling, then letting it fall toward the wall, and ultimately letting it fall to the floor so your face is up instead of down. The scary part is trusting that you won't bust your behind -- or just resigning yourself to the reality that you might just!

In the last ten minutes of class, I found myself in a shoulder stand being suffocated by my boobs and trembling with laughter. This was fun, or at least funny, and I realized where my mojo went.

I was taking myself and my process waaaaaaay too seriously. I was forgetting to reward my efforts with laughter. Life is serious enough: fitness shouldn't have to be about high stakes and failure. It should be about celebration and thankfulness for a body that can do whatever it can in that moment, and for a mind that can push it beyond that current reality.

So, I crawled back on the wagon. I spit out the dust and sand that I'd eaten when I fell. And I decided to bring it, and be ecstatic with what I brought. Thursday I went to kickboxing and kicked ass. I might not have looked like much on the outside, but in my mind, I was Van Dam, baby. Friday morning I humbled myself and started from ground zero on my lunges & pushups. Amazingly, it wasn't that bad. I was actually happy to find the new, more appropriate discomfort.

Now I'm getting ready to snuggle up on the sofa with my mojo and watch a little DVRed TV, after all, we've earned it!

Until next,

7 Year Itch

Today is my second son's birthday; he's 7. He has been so excited all week that sometimes he actually bounces with glee. When this happens, he looks at me and says, "Sorry mom, I'm just sooooo excited" and begins to giggle and jiggle all over again.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of him running around upstairs at 4 something in the morning. By the time I brought him downstairs for breakfast & gifts, I thought his head might just explode. I've got to say, I can't think of any time that I was that excited about anything, especially not getting older.

And now, as my "little guy" stretches taller and leaner, I'm getting the itch for another child. Maybe it's the Saundra Bullock announcement. Maybe it's the fact that my second (and last) child has hit that awkward size when snuggling into your lap becomes more a poking of sharp knees and elbows than a cuddling of rounded baby.

My husband isn't exactly on board with the adoption idea. It isn't that he's cold or uncaring; he's just cheap. Honestly, I don't know what the cost might be but the last time I looked it wasn't pretty. I'm sad and angered by the idea that someone like me -- relatively normal and all -- could long for a child and be deterred by the cost of all things.

Still, this is something I've wanted for a long, long time. Before I was ever married I wanted to adopt a child. Now, with this latest birthday, that longing beat in my heart is picking up speed and impact. I'm not sure what will happen next, but I can say that I've never wanted anything this much and not gotten it. . .

For now, I will focus on the day and the celebration of the beautiful, healthy sons that I have. I will run around like a psycho cleaning only to have the children from the sleepover destroy my efforts in a single night. I will retrieve cupcakes from the local grocery store and deliver them like an angel from sugar heaven to the children in my son's class. But in the recesses of my mind, the wheels are in motion and I can tell you, I feel a plan brewing in the old noggin.

In fitness news,
I struggled this morning in my weight lifting class; the glass of shiraz two nights in a row was ill-advised apparently. Still, 274 calories were knocked out in 55 minutes and I cranked out a set of dead lifts/rows and tricep presses/extensions that I am truly proud of. Oh, and the barbecue chicken sandwiches were a major hit yesterday!

Food for Thought

Well, It's Thursday and I'm off to a good start. I ran/walked my 5K route in 00:46 minutes (that's 3 less than yesterday!) and burned 502 cal. The bonus? By getting my heart rate up to over 10 calories burned per minute for so long, I will burn more calories all day, even if I sit on my fanny. Pretty sweet.

I'm still working on a plan for nutrition. It has to be easy, realistic, yummy and easy. I know I mentioned easy twice, but it's very important. Truth be told, I don't even like fast food, but it's easy so I'm tempted.

So far, my master plan for nutrition is being shaped by two pop culture pillars of wisdom: Anton Ego & Quinn.

One aspect of the new approach will be to channel the voice of my favorite (fictional) food critic --Anton Ego from Ratatouille. There's a point when Linguine asks him how a food critic can be so skinny and he replies that if he doesn't love it, he doesn't swallow. I'm thinking that if I don't love it (and loving it will be based on flavor or benefit) I won't eat it.

The other night on Glee, Quinn had a moment of tenderness with Mercedes and talked about reframing the idea of nutrition. If you can change the way you eat to give a baby what they need, you should be willing to love yourself enough to do the same. The idea of good nutrition being an act of love -- and specifically of self love -- is really resonating in my mind.

Much of this process of reclaiming fitness, reclaiming my body, has been about re-discovering how much I love myself and feeling brave enough to love myself in visable ways. Who would have thought that loving could be so hard? I spent years figuring out how to love my husband, truly. I spent years learning to love my children, consistently and unconditionally. Now the process is coming full circle and I'm learning to love myself in the same ways.


I'm having to love myself despite flaws in the same way I had to learn to love my husband despite his. I'm having to love myself despite the fact that I can thoroughly disappoint and piss myself off at times, just like with my children.


Ah, but baby steps. . .


Today I just need to get through the challenge of healthy food choices!


I have no intention of eating disgusting things, but I do plan to love myself with food rather than pimp smacking myself with unhealthy choices.

To amend the words of the great Anton Ego, If I don't love it-- and it doesn't love me back -- I won't swallow.

Today, the foods in my home that I love and that love me back are strawberries, chicken, quinoa, lettuce and feta cheese so I'll try to figure out some combination with those in starring roles and others foods playing back up.


I may have to take the dinner scene one day at a time, but for now the plan is to crock pot a little barbecue chicken. Sodium rich, perhaps, but home cooked and you've got to start somewhere!


Until next. . .

Oh, P.S. Here's what I found in the fridge: left over salmon (6 oz, baked), 1/2 a cup of 5 minute couscous with nutmeg (my friends sister in law puts nutmeg on everything and it's actually really good!) and grapes. Total calories: 566.3; 42.2 g protein, 50.2 g carbs and 21.9 g fat. By the way, my goal is to move that fat content down and push the carbs up, but that will have to come in time!