I feel like all I do is eat, prepare my food, shop for my food or organize my supplements and refrigerator. I'm always thinking about this strict diet of mine. Thank God my children like most of the stuff I am eating, or else I'm afraid they'd get fast food every day.
Here's a list of the foods my little ones like. It's actually quite unusual for 3 & 1 year olds to like some of these items, but I feel very blessed and am thankful they do (mostly for the sake of their health, but also for the added convenience for me not to have to find too many additional foods for them):
Turkey in any form or fashion, even without salt or many seasonings
Oatmeal sweetened with Splenda
Almond milk
Berries and apples
Tuna and salmon
Brown rice
Cucumbers
Zucchini
Asparagus
Cottage cheese
For dinner tonight, I made us all salmon, asparagus, brown rice and zucchini. My husband's salmon had a dash of salt for flavor, and he had a salad instead of the other greens. Other than slight variations for certain people at certain meals, I've been very fortunate, so far, to not have to play short order cook.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Goodies Galore -- now, no more!
Well, Christmas is over, and so is my perfect diet record. I could NOT resist all the goodies this time. I didn't even try. I gave myself a little latitude, for better or for worse:
On Christmas eve, my Italian side of the family gathers for a fish meal: pasta with tomato and squid sauce, fried fish and vegetables, and plenty of desserts. It's a dieter's nightmare. Most of my family is dieting, but we all gave it up for that evening and the next. I watched as many of us tamed our appetites and still had a nice time. There was a lot left over, but the non-dieters took it home. I took a small plate for my husband after work, but he chose to be good and not imbibe. Christmas day was another story full of rich foods and desserts, as well as wine and egg nog.
Today, I'm back at it. I gave my girls a cookie after lunch, and all other goodies around the house either went in the trash or got re-gifted to someone in my building. I just can't keep it around, or else I'll snack on that stuff and justify it somehow. Nope, no more dessert for me for a long while. I want to present myself the best I can in 16 weeks (synonymous with: I don't want to look like a fool with little else on than my spray tan at the competition).
I am back on my two-a-day workout schedule and clean diet. It was rough this morning, and it will be even harder this afternoon because I'm about to do laundry and housework and not get a rest before heading back to the gym. At least the children are napping (wish me luck they stay asleep for the whole 2 hours like they're supposed to). I'm glad I have my pals at Crunch and my coach to keep encouraging me to stay on top of it. This is not a game to me -- it's my job for the next 4 months.
Why am I taking this so seriously, especially since it's by choice? Everything in life is a choice. I just chose this, and I'm going to work as hard as I can at it, like I do everything else.
On Christmas eve, my Italian side of the family gathers for a fish meal: pasta with tomato and squid sauce, fried fish and vegetables, and plenty of desserts. It's a dieter's nightmare. Most of my family is dieting, but we all gave it up for that evening and the next. I watched as many of us tamed our appetites and still had a nice time. There was a lot left over, but the non-dieters took it home. I took a small plate for my husband after work, but he chose to be good and not imbibe. Christmas day was another story full of rich foods and desserts, as well as wine and egg nog.
Today, I'm back at it. I gave my girls a cookie after lunch, and all other goodies around the house either went in the trash or got re-gifted to someone in my building. I just can't keep it around, or else I'll snack on that stuff and justify it somehow. Nope, no more dessert for me for a long while. I want to present myself the best I can in 16 weeks (synonymous with: I don't want to look like a fool with little else on than my spray tan at the competition).
I am back on my two-a-day workout schedule and clean diet. It was rough this morning, and it will be even harder this afternoon because I'm about to do laundry and housework and not get a rest before heading back to the gym. At least the children are napping (wish me luck they stay asleep for the whole 2 hours like they're supposed to). I'm glad I have my pals at Crunch and my coach to keep encouraging me to stay on top of it. This is not a game to me -- it's my job for the next 4 months.
Why am I taking this so seriously, especially since it's by choice? Everything in life is a choice. I just chose this, and I'm going to work as hard as I can at it, like I do everything else.
Friday, December 21, 2012
A Day in the Life
An "easy" day:
7:00 - Wake up, have coffee, check email and texts, write in my journal.
7:30 - Girls wake up, give them milk, turn on cartoons, wash dishes from night before and pack my gym bag and meal 2 and snacks for the girls. Snuggle with the girls for a few minutes while watching "Word World".
8:00 - Realize that I only have 1/2 hour before "Bootcamp Boxing", get girls dressed, teeth brushed, put on my workout clothes and shoes, dab on some makeup, shove food down their throats and finish my own (huge) breakfast, get girls' shoes on and load them in the car.
8:30 - Rush into the gym, walk the girls into childcare, throw my stuff into a locker and begin my class. (Even though it's a major pain to get there on time, I can't give up this class because I have friends, supporters and a great workout waiting for me to start my day).
9:30 - Change my shirt because it's drenched, gather the girls and my stuff, walk back to the car and head over to my other gym, Crunch, to do lifting. I give the girls a snack to eat in the car.
10:00 - After placing kids in child care, chit-chatting with the gals and front desk staff and clearing my head, I begin my lifting protocol.
10:30 - Take a short break for meal 2 and check on the girls.
11:45 - Hop into shower if I'm done lifting. If not, no shower until nighttime.
12:15 - Gather girls and head to the mall for a quick visit and snack with some of their little friends.
1:00 - Head home for lunch. I feverishly make the girls their food and begin making my meal 3. We eat together and then play a little bit.
2:00 - Naptime for the girls. If I'm lucky and they're good and tired, they will nap for 2 hours.
2:30 - Babysitter comes over and I hop over to the store.
3:30 - Put away groceries, cook meal 4 and 5 and begin dinner for the girls and hubby.
4:00 - Girls wake up, and I get them water and direct them toward educational activities on the computer, art materials or imaginary play with toys or puppets.
4:30 - Eat my meal 4 then get on some household chores.
5:15 - Begin dinner with the girls and try to do some more chores while making sure they're eating quickly so that we can get to the gym again before too late.
6:00 - Get the girls dressed for the gym, get myself into new workout clothes and pack my gym bag. if my husband is home, he either comes with us, meets us there later or stays for dinner and quiet time.
6:20 - Arrive at Crunch, repeat ritual as above, except doing cardio this time.
8:00 - Gather girls, head home, begin bath and bed ritual. Try to catch a few kisses and hugs with my husband.
8:30 - Girls are in bed, I eat meal 6 and try to sit down for a few minutes.
9:00 - Finish some household chores, check email again, read bible, shower.
10:30 - Hop into bed, usually after husband has gone to bed. Fall asleep to t.v. by around 11.
It's 10:30 now, time for bed! Another day begins tomorrow. It will be much like the one described above, but there will be some new wrinkle or change that will challenge my organization skills and patience. Yet, I think I'm gonna make it. I'm gonna give it my all, anyway.
7:00 - Wake up, have coffee, check email and texts, write in my journal.
7:30 - Girls wake up, give them milk, turn on cartoons, wash dishes from night before and pack my gym bag and meal 2 and snacks for the girls. Snuggle with the girls for a few minutes while watching "Word World".
8:00 - Realize that I only have 1/2 hour before "Bootcamp Boxing", get girls dressed, teeth brushed, put on my workout clothes and shoes, dab on some makeup, shove food down their throats and finish my own (huge) breakfast, get girls' shoes on and load them in the car.
8:30 - Rush into the gym, walk the girls into childcare, throw my stuff into a locker and begin my class. (Even though it's a major pain to get there on time, I can't give up this class because I have friends, supporters and a great workout waiting for me to start my day).
9:30 - Change my shirt because it's drenched, gather the girls and my stuff, walk back to the car and head over to my other gym, Crunch, to do lifting. I give the girls a snack to eat in the car.
10:00 - After placing kids in child care, chit-chatting with the gals and front desk staff and clearing my head, I begin my lifting protocol.
10:30 - Take a short break for meal 2 and check on the girls.
11:45 - Hop into shower if I'm done lifting. If not, no shower until nighttime.
12:15 - Gather girls and head to the mall for a quick visit and snack with some of their little friends.
1:00 - Head home for lunch. I feverishly make the girls their food and begin making my meal 3. We eat together and then play a little bit.
2:00 - Naptime for the girls. If I'm lucky and they're good and tired, they will nap for 2 hours.
2:30 - Babysitter comes over and I hop over to the store.
3:30 - Put away groceries, cook meal 4 and 5 and begin dinner for the girls and hubby.
4:00 - Girls wake up, and I get them water and direct them toward educational activities on the computer, art materials or imaginary play with toys or puppets.
4:30 - Eat my meal 4 then get on some household chores.
5:15 - Begin dinner with the girls and try to do some more chores while making sure they're eating quickly so that we can get to the gym again before too late.
6:00 - Get the girls dressed for the gym, get myself into new workout clothes and pack my gym bag. if my husband is home, he either comes with us, meets us there later or stays for dinner and quiet time.
6:20 - Arrive at Crunch, repeat ritual as above, except doing cardio this time.
8:00 - Gather girls, head home, begin bath and bed ritual. Try to catch a few kisses and hugs with my husband.
8:30 - Girls are in bed, I eat meal 6 and try to sit down for a few minutes.
9:00 - Finish some household chores, check email again, read bible, shower.
10:30 - Hop into bed, usually after husband has gone to bed. Fall asleep to t.v. by around 11.
It's 10:30 now, time for bed! Another day begins tomorrow. It will be much like the one described above, but there will be some new wrinkle or change that will challenge my organization skills and patience. Yet, I think I'm gonna make it. I'm gonna give it my all, anyway.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Laying it all out there
Wow! I just started training. I thought I would begin in January, but my coach wanted to get started sooner to give me an even better chance to do really well. I appreciate that, but man-oh-man is it rough during this season: I have only a few Christmas gifts wrapped, I still have a lot of little gifts to get for friends and childcare workers, there are parties galore with goodies to ignore, and my little ones are too excited these days to take their much-needed naps (I need them to nap as much as they need it for their development).
I'm eating 6 meals a day. Yes, meals. These aren't snacks. They are roughly 400 calories or more of protein, fiber, some carbs, and not a whole lot more. They are fresh and generally tasty, but I'm spending a lot of time preparing and shopping for them. I think it will be easier to follow, once I get the hang of it and prepare more than one portion at a time.
Also, the lifting is harder than I've done before. I just learned that it is "hypertrophic", which means a lot of reps and supersets at pretty high weight. Oh boy do my muscles burn! Then, there's the cardio. I don't think I've sweat this much since my first boxing bootcamp class. I'm not complaining. I actually think it will be awesome. It's just new, and it's quite a challenge.
Many thanks to all of my friends and cheerleaders at my gyms. I can't do it without you!
I'm eating 6 meals a day. Yes, meals. These aren't snacks. They are roughly 400 calories or more of protein, fiber, some carbs, and not a whole lot more. They are fresh and generally tasty, but I'm spending a lot of time preparing and shopping for them. I think it will be easier to follow, once I get the hang of it and prepare more than one portion at a time.
Also, the lifting is harder than I've done before. I just learned that it is "hypertrophic", which means a lot of reps and supersets at pretty high weight. Oh boy do my muscles burn! Then, there's the cardio. I don't think I've sweat this much since my first boxing bootcamp class. I'm not complaining. I actually think it will be awesome. It's just new, and it's quite a challenge.
Many thanks to all of my friends and cheerleaders at my gyms. I can't do it without you!
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
It's not vanity
Recently, someone very close to me accused me of becoming vain and changing as a person because I have increased my fitness goals. I just wanted to make it clear to anyone who is reading this blog that it's not vanity that compels me keep on pushing myself to new heights in this field... and others who are very close to me disagree with my accuser.
I hope you've heard my heart over these past several months, and I hope you have understood my path: it started as a necessity to lose weight, became a hobby, then became a new passion and career. I'm sharing what I'm learning with everyone who wants or needs to learn more about fitness, and their lives are changing, as is mine.
Just because I want to earn a trophy for my hard work doesn't make me obsessed.
Yes, I think about my upcoming competition all the time. That doesn't make me obsessed. It makes me competitive and excited. Now that I've made my decision, I'm sure I'll move toward a more healthy routine and thought process.
In the meantime, before things settle down, I just want to make it clear that my motivation is not vanity. It's so much more.
I hope you've heard my heart over these past several months, and I hope you have understood my path: it started as a necessity to lose weight, became a hobby, then became a new passion and career. I'm sharing what I'm learning with everyone who wants or needs to learn more about fitness, and their lives are changing, as is mine.
Just because I want to earn a trophy for my hard work doesn't make me obsessed.
Yes, I think about my upcoming competition all the time. That doesn't make me obsessed. It makes me competitive and excited. Now that I've made my decision, I'm sure I'll move toward a more healthy routine and thought process.
In the meantime, before things settle down, I just want to make it clear that my motivation is not vanity. It's so much more.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
An inspiration
Hi cyberbuddies. I just attended my first competition on Saturday night, and what a whirlwind it was for me! I sat amongst about 500 fans, anxiously awaiting the category that I thought I should try to compete in in April. Six hours later, I found it: Women's Figure. It's like a lightweight bodybuilding category. It's more serious, in my opinion, than the Bikini competition, but then again, those ladies are probably just as dedicated to fitness as I am currently.
All I know is that I need to step it up a notch to compete in Figure and possibly move up to Bodybuilding after that. Whichever category, I know I have to pack on more muscle, lose more body fat, and learn the poses for this sport. It will be quite a challenge, and I'm excited!
Being at the competition was a great experience, but an even more profound experience was being in the gym the next day and having a girl come up to me and tell me that I am an inspiration of fitness to her. I was able to tell her about my journey and thank God for the time, genetics, and supportive husband and children I have to be able to accomplish so much in a relatively short amount of time. I hope to inspire and encourage many others and always remember that others are watching my attitude and actions in the gym, park or wherever I train.
This week, I'm focusing on balance of my time before I enter my serious 12-week competition training. I need to enjoy the Christmas season with my family, exhibit the Christmas spirit of joy, peace, love and hope, and continue to try to exceed my expectations of myself in all facets of my life. If I'm not growing, I'm not really living.
All I know is that I need to step it up a notch to compete in Figure and possibly move up to Bodybuilding after that. Whichever category, I know I have to pack on more muscle, lose more body fat, and learn the poses for this sport. It will be quite a challenge, and I'm excited!
Being at the competition was a great experience, but an even more profound experience was being in the gym the next day and having a girl come up to me and tell me that I am an inspiration of fitness to her. I was able to tell her about my journey and thank God for the time, genetics, and supportive husband and children I have to be able to accomplish so much in a relatively short amount of time. I hope to inspire and encourage many others and always remember that others are watching my attitude and actions in the gym, park or wherever I train.
This week, I'm focusing on balance of my time before I enter my serious 12-week competition training. I need to enjoy the Christmas season with my family, exhibit the Christmas spirit of joy, peace, love and hope, and continue to try to exceed my expectations of myself in all facets of my life. If I'm not growing, I'm not really living.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Pre-training
I've been promising my friends that I would post pictures of my progress toward my best shot at the figure competition in April 2013. Here's the first picture.
My hangups about my figure are: 1) my pregnancy stretch marks that circumnavigate my whole mid-section and down the tops of my thighs; 2) a touch of cellulite that won't go away, but I hope it will by competition; 3) lots of padding needed on top to achieve the look of not being small-chested.
Regardless, I'm going to show off this 35-year-old mother-of-two body that I've been training and working so hard to achieve. A friend of mine said that I'm an inspiration, but I really just want to inspire healthy living, happiness about oneself and one's body and finding strength to overcome challenges.
Here's me in pre-training:
My hangups about my figure are: 1) my pregnancy stretch marks that circumnavigate my whole mid-section and down the tops of my thighs; 2) a touch of cellulite that won't go away, but I hope it will by competition; 3) lots of padding needed on top to achieve the look of not being small-chested.
Regardless, I'm going to show off this 35-year-old mother-of-two body that I've been training and working so hard to achieve. A friend of mine said that I'm an inspiration, but I really just want to inspire healthy living, happiness about oneself and one's body and finding strength to overcome challenges.
Here's me in pre-training:
My official 12-week training will begin by mid-January. I'll learn posing, stage make-up, pick out a suit, stick to a strict, clean diet and workout plan. Sound fun? I'll let you know!
Monday, November 26, 2012
What are you training for again?
Last time I posted with the title, "What are you training for," my answer was "life". I didn't have an agenda. Somewhere in between that post and now, I've decided that I NEED an agenda to keep me motivated to be the athlete that I want to be.
In the gym this morning, my buddy, who is always an encouragement, asked me how I stay motivated. He has gained some weight recently, and he needs to stay slimmer for his career on the small screen. I told him that I have decided to train for a figure competition -- yes, body building. He said if a 35 year-old mom of two (he added, "a hot one") could compete by April, he could drop 20 pounds by then. We have a challenge now!
I've already gained a lot of new muscle and leaned down the fat, and now I want to keep going. I don't plan on adding too much more muscle. I just plan on being a bit more cut on my lower body. I hope to be ready for an amateur competition in April 2013. I am getting a coach, who has won the top prize for her class 3 years running, and she looks awesome. I can't wait to get started on her plan, but for now I'm going strong on my own.
Wish me luck!
In the gym this morning, my buddy, who is always an encouragement, asked me how I stay motivated. He has gained some weight recently, and he needs to stay slimmer for his career on the small screen. I told him that I have decided to train for a figure competition -- yes, body building. He said if a 35 year-old mom of two (he added, "a hot one") could compete by April, he could drop 20 pounds by then. We have a challenge now!
I've already gained a lot of new muscle and leaned down the fat, and now I want to keep going. I don't plan on adding too much more muscle. I just plan on being a bit more cut on my lower body. I hope to be ready for an amateur competition in April 2013. I am getting a coach, who has won the top prize for her class 3 years running, and she looks awesome. I can't wait to get started on her plan, but for now I'm going strong on my own.
Wish me luck!
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Strength Training for Women
I have a few new clients who really love their Zumba and "spinning" classes, but they are experiencing either a plateau or very slow weight loss. I truly believe, and research shows, that this is because they have not built strength training into their exercise routine. That's why they've come to see me -- to learn new ways to maximize their weight loss success.
Since I have emphasized weight lifting/strength training in my weekly regimen, I have neither plateaued nor slowed down my progress toward a firmer, more fit body. I'm also not as tired after strength training as I am after a cardio class. Sure, I haven't burned as many calories after an hour of lifting/body weight exercises as compared to the cardio class. However, my muscles chew up the fat and excess water weight for a prolonged period of time after my strength training than they do after an hour of running or dancing around. Plus, I get to target the areas I want to target, and I'm in control of my shape.
Believe me, those classes can be fun. So can running, taking long walks, going dancing, hiking, etc. Exercise is the one of the spices of life. I hope I always look for new ways to get my heart pumping every single day.
I have linked an article that I think is a quick, comprehensive introduction to why strength training is important. As a personal trainer, I try to teach my clients the principles outlined in the article and those that I have learned through my classes, textbooks and personal experience.
Read up, and get stronger!
http://www.womenshealthmag.com/weight-loss/weight-training-tips
Since I have emphasized weight lifting/strength training in my weekly regimen, I have neither plateaued nor slowed down my progress toward a firmer, more fit body. I'm also not as tired after strength training as I am after a cardio class. Sure, I haven't burned as many calories after an hour of lifting/body weight exercises as compared to the cardio class. However, my muscles chew up the fat and excess water weight for a prolonged period of time after my strength training than they do after an hour of running or dancing around. Plus, I get to target the areas I want to target, and I'm in control of my shape.
Believe me, those classes can be fun. So can running, taking long walks, going dancing, hiking, etc. Exercise is the one of the spices of life. I hope I always look for new ways to get my heart pumping every single day.
I have linked an article that I think is a quick, comprehensive introduction to why strength training is important. As a personal trainer, I try to teach my clients the principles outlined in the article and those that I have learned through my classes, textbooks and personal experience.
Read up, and get stronger!
http://www.womenshealthmag.com/weight-loss/weight-training-tips
Thursday, November 15, 2012
My first and last 5K
The title of this post is misleading, "My first and last 5K." I know that sounds negative, but the experience was so positive that I will never repeat it. I did so well on the 5K that I will never run a 5K race again. I will only run 10K's from now on.
Honestly (and aren't I always honest here?), the day before the race I was so nervous that I had bowel issues. I thought I was surely NOT going to finish. I was so happy that I was feeling sick because at least I would have an excuse if I actually didn't finish the race. I pictured myself telling people when they asked how it went, "Well, I was getting over a stomach bug, so I did my best."
I felt ill-prepared. After all, I hadn't made proper time to train for this race. I was busy sticking to my weight lifting regimen and having fun in boxing bootcamp and a new class at Crunch called "ass & abs". The most I could handle running on any given day over the past 4 months was about 1.5 miles, just under half the distance of my impending 5K. Also, I was not regulating my asthma very well because I was being cocky and not taking my maintenance medication -- each week I felt fine when I was doing my workouts, so I stopped taking my meds, and then about a week later I had to get back on them and also take my rescue inhaler. Needless to say, the race was on my schedule, but training for and being physically prepared for it was not.
Thankfully, I ran it with my sister-in-law, who had been taking training seriously, and who enjoys running. This being the first race for both of us, we stood excited and nervous at the starting line together. We hugged, jumped up and down a little bit, wiggled our way as close to the front as possible (just behind the 9-year-olds who intended to smoke all of us and run 6-minute miles or less), and got each other pumped.
As we made the first turn, I was so glad to have a running partner to help me at least finish the race. As we made the last turn, I think we were both kind of sad that the finish line was approaching. We ran across, got better times than we thought we would, and turned to each other and said, "I wish we had signed up for the 10K! Next year we'll go for it." We hugged, we jumped up and down a little bit, wound our way to the coffee truck, and felt very, very good about ourselves.
Honestly (and aren't I always honest here?), the day before the race I was so nervous that I had bowel issues. I thought I was surely NOT going to finish. I was so happy that I was feeling sick because at least I would have an excuse if I actually didn't finish the race. I pictured myself telling people when they asked how it went, "Well, I was getting over a stomach bug, so I did my best."
I felt ill-prepared. After all, I hadn't made proper time to train for this race. I was busy sticking to my weight lifting regimen and having fun in boxing bootcamp and a new class at Crunch called "ass & abs". The most I could handle running on any given day over the past 4 months was about 1.5 miles, just under half the distance of my impending 5K. Also, I was not regulating my asthma very well because I was being cocky and not taking my maintenance medication -- each week I felt fine when I was doing my workouts, so I stopped taking my meds, and then about a week later I had to get back on them and also take my rescue inhaler. Needless to say, the race was on my schedule, but training for and being physically prepared for it was not.
Thankfully, I ran it with my sister-in-law, who had been taking training seriously, and who enjoys running. This being the first race for both of us, we stood excited and nervous at the starting line together. We hugged, jumped up and down a little bit, wiggled our way as close to the front as possible (just behind the 9-year-olds who intended to smoke all of us and run 6-minute miles or less), and got each other pumped.
As we made the first turn, I was so glad to have a running partner to help me at least finish the race. As we made the last turn, I think we were both kind of sad that the finish line was approaching. We ran across, got better times than we thought we would, and turned to each other and said, "I wish we had signed up for the 10K! Next year we'll go for it." We hugged, we jumped up and down a little bit, wound our way to the coffee truck, and felt very, very good about ourselves.
Been a little busy
Wow! I just realized it's been about a month since I last reported in. I must admit that I've been doing a lot more "doing" than "thinking about doing", which is a very good thing. My transformation has required a lot of pondering and musing, and now it is simply time to get out there and hit it hard.
For example, I'm running late for a training session with a friend, so I have to go. But I just want to say one thing before I go, for the 2 people who are reading this: writing things out, making a plan and sticking to a schedule has taken a bit of time and brainpower, but it has been the best thing I've done for myself in a very long time.
Talk to you soon. Gotta run!!
For example, I'm running late for a training session with a friend, so I have to go. But I just want to say one thing before I go, for the 2 people who are reading this: writing things out, making a plan and sticking to a schedule has taken a bit of time and brainpower, but it has been the best thing I've done for myself in a very long time.
Talk to you soon. Gotta run!!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Breakthrough
When I started this blog, I had some very specific goals in mind. I wasn't sure how long it would take me to hit them, but I knew I would hit them. Well, after 3 months, I am proud to say that I've hit every one of my goals. It has been a lot of hard work, but I feel like it's paid off... Now it's time to make new goals.
In the spirit of not looking back, I won't tell you what my goals were, but I'll tell you some of my new ones:
1. Strive to have the most positive attitude I can in all circumstances and praise God for His involvement in all things. I outwardly portray a very positive and self-assured person, but I often feel buried under the weight of my insecurities and lack of control. Staying fit has definitely given me a more positive self image, and it has given me something to tightly control. However, that's only about 20% of what I have going on in my life, so I am challenged to be more positive and grateful in the other 80%.
2. Re-prioritize my activities to leave more room for the truly important stuff. I want to make sure that I'm always making my little girls feel special and desired, even when I have them in child care at the gym or strapped into their carseats on the way to and from some necessary life-business, like shopping or the bank, etc. Equally, I need to continue to keep myself available for my husband, physically and emotionally. That means not tiring myself out entirely before he comes home late at night and remembering to call and encourage him during the day, even though I know we're both very busy.
3. Eat even more "clean". I am doing better at cooking my own meals and using healthy ingredients, but when the kids (and I) want a quick lunch at McDonald's or at the Mall, it's hard to resist.
4. Drop another 5% body fat. Honestly, I'm in the best shape I've ever been in in my entire life because I'm muscular and lean (in my youth I was mostly just lean). However, I really want to lose more padding and fill it up with muscle while maintaining my womanly figure.
In the spirit of not looking back, I won't tell you what my goals were, but I'll tell you some of my new ones:
1. Strive to have the most positive attitude I can in all circumstances and praise God for His involvement in all things. I outwardly portray a very positive and self-assured person, but I often feel buried under the weight of my insecurities and lack of control. Staying fit has definitely given me a more positive self image, and it has given me something to tightly control. However, that's only about 20% of what I have going on in my life, so I am challenged to be more positive and grateful in the other 80%.
2. Re-prioritize my activities to leave more room for the truly important stuff. I want to make sure that I'm always making my little girls feel special and desired, even when I have them in child care at the gym or strapped into their carseats on the way to and from some necessary life-business, like shopping or the bank, etc. Equally, I need to continue to keep myself available for my husband, physically and emotionally. That means not tiring myself out entirely before he comes home late at night and remembering to call and encourage him during the day, even though I know we're both very busy.
3. Eat even more "clean". I am doing better at cooking my own meals and using healthy ingredients, but when the kids (and I) want a quick lunch at McDonald's or at the Mall, it's hard to resist.
4. Drop another 5% body fat. Honestly, I'm in the best shape I've ever been in in my entire life because I'm muscular and lean (in my youth I was mostly just lean). However, I really want to lose more padding and fill it up with muscle while maintaining my womanly figure.
Friday, September 28, 2012
No looking back
I discovered that I lost my workout journal today. I used it two days ago to check off my lower body workout and to write my weight/measurements, and now I have no idea where it is. I am so sad, and I feel quite lost.
I guess it's a good thing, if I try to think positively. That journal has a year's worth of workouts, measurements, changes to my workouts, bonus workouts, happy/sad faces when I hit/miss my goals, increases/decreases in weights, etc. I suppose I don't have anything to look back on now. I have to move forward.
What does moving forward look like? Take starting measurements, make new goals, try new exercises, try new weights. I'm excited and a bit frustrated at the same time. This means more work for me, but it also means more concentrated effort to formulate a new regimen and outlook.
It's ironic because I just took away my mom's notebook (I train her 2x per week), so that I could reflect and redirect her this quarter. Now, I get to do it for myself, minus the reflecting back. It will be a bit more complicated for me, but stimulating.
Wish me luck and fun!
I guess it's a good thing, if I try to think positively. That journal has a year's worth of workouts, measurements, changes to my workouts, bonus workouts, happy/sad faces when I hit/miss my goals, increases/decreases in weights, etc. I suppose I don't have anything to look back on now. I have to move forward.
What does moving forward look like? Take starting measurements, make new goals, try new exercises, try new weights. I'm excited and a bit frustrated at the same time. This means more work for me, but it also means more concentrated effort to formulate a new regimen and outlook.
It's ironic because I just took away my mom's notebook (I train her 2x per week), so that I could reflect and redirect her this quarter. Now, I get to do it for myself, minus the reflecting back. It will be a bit more complicated for me, but stimulating.
Wish me luck and fun!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Free bootcamp anyone?
Apparently, the idea of a free bootcamp isn't as exciting to some people as it is to me. I was at a playdate with my girlfriends and our kids, and both moms had just had babies 4 months ago. They were asking me all sorts of questions about where I work out and how often I do it, and they each said they'd like to work on getting back into shape. So, I offered to do a free bootcamp once a week in the back yard, and the conversation went silent from that point on.
It's sad to me that these moms are reluctant to put in the work to get what they truly want, especially since I was offering help for free. I wasn't shoving it in their faces, either. I simply said that I have to do my own workout, so I can do it with them and tailor it to their needs/abilities.
We finished our playdate, and once again I offered to help them get back on the road to getting fit again. They each made comments like, "I just need to be able to squeeze into my work clothes again in a couple of months. I'll be fine, I'm sure." I hope it wasn't because they just didn't want me helping them, but that they're truly not ready to put in the effort (I get that -- new babies and all). I'll just see if they bring it up again at the next playdate and take it from there.
You can lead a horse to water...
It's sad to me that these moms are reluctant to put in the work to get what they truly want, especially since I was offering help for free. I wasn't shoving it in their faces, either. I simply said that I have to do my own workout, so I can do it with them and tailor it to their needs/abilities.
We finished our playdate, and once again I offered to help them get back on the road to getting fit again. They each made comments like, "I just need to be able to squeeze into my work clothes again in a couple of months. I'll be fine, I'm sure." I hope it wasn't because they just didn't want me helping them, but that they're truly not ready to put in the effort (I get that -- new babies and all). I'll just see if they bring it up again at the next playdate and take it from there.
You can lead a horse to water...
Saturday, September 15, 2012
What are you training for?
I was at my new gym this morning for a bonus workout because my husband wanted to go with me to check out this new place where the girls and I are spending a lot of time. I was doing my typical lower body workout with some additional high intensity cardio. I asked if I could jump in on a machine while a trainer was with a young lady, and the trainer obliged.
The young lady, who was probably 10 years younger than me, was doing squats with the amount of weight I used when I first started with my trainer (25 lbs on each side of the 45 lb bar). She did a great job, but she seemed very uncertain about the squats, as I recall feeling when I started. When I jumped in, I added plates of 45 lbs to each side. It felt nice to see how far I'd come in about a year, from 25 to 70 pounds on each side.
The trainer asked me, "What are you training for?"
"I'm training for life," I replied. Then, I explained that I had lost a whole bunch of weight and I've changed my lifestyle, so I just do it because this is what I do now. I'm not training for anything, but everything life throws at me (although I am doing a 5K in 2 months, but I'm not specifically training for that).
When I was leaving the locker room after my workout, I saw the young lady all dolled up and ready to hit the day. I told her that she was doing great, and that she should be so proud of herself. She told me that my reply to her trainer's question, "What are you training for?" was inspiring. She said she wants to eventually look as great as I do (how nice of her to say that), and she hopes that if someone asks her what she's training for her reply will be the same: that she's just training for "life".
The young lady, who was probably 10 years younger than me, was doing squats with the amount of weight I used when I first started with my trainer (25 lbs on each side of the 45 lb bar). She did a great job, but she seemed very uncertain about the squats, as I recall feeling when I started. When I jumped in, I added plates of 45 lbs to each side. It felt nice to see how far I'd come in about a year, from 25 to 70 pounds on each side.
The trainer asked me, "What are you training for?"
"I'm training for life," I replied. Then, I explained that I had lost a whole bunch of weight and I've changed my lifestyle, so I just do it because this is what I do now. I'm not training for anything, but everything life throws at me (although I am doing a 5K in 2 months, but I'm not specifically training for that).
When I was leaving the locker room after my workout, I saw the young lady all dolled up and ready to hit the day. I told her that she was doing great, and that she should be so proud of herself. She told me that my reply to her trainer's question, "What are you training for?" was inspiring. She said she wants to eventually look as great as I do (how nice of her to say that), and she hopes that if someone asks her what she's training for her reply will be the same: that she's just training for "life".
Friday, September 14, 2012
Buy a size smaller
Feeling good about my weight loss and body shape these days, I decided to buy some jeans for the Fall. I was pleased with the size that fit. Nevertheless, I still bought a size smaller than the perfect fit. Not because I wanted them to be tight, but because I want to push myself to continue to shed and tone in certain spots that the smaller size pointed out (waist and thighs).
If anyone's reading this post, I want encourage you to buy one size smaller than the best fit now (unless you're in absolutely perfect shape). Make sure you're a bit uncomfortable, especially in workout clothes -- don't be afraid of elastic lines. It won't be a waste of money, unless you never lose weight and keep them hidden in your closet. Also, don't throw out/give away all of your "skinny" clothes. Aspire to and work toward at least getting them all the way on (even if you have to suck it in to button up).
I lost 60 pounds, and I'm still losing and toning. My body is taking on a different shape every few months. It doesn't stop me from buying something that I know will look great in the future. Small goals equal big results, eventually.
If anyone's reading this post, I want encourage you to buy one size smaller than the best fit now (unless you're in absolutely perfect shape). Make sure you're a bit uncomfortable, especially in workout clothes -- don't be afraid of elastic lines. It won't be a waste of money, unless you never lose weight and keep them hidden in your closet. Also, don't throw out/give away all of your "skinny" clothes. Aspire to and work toward at least getting them all the way on (even if you have to suck it in to button up).
I lost 60 pounds, and I'm still losing and toning. My body is taking on a different shape every few months. It doesn't stop me from buying something that I know will look great in the future. Small goals equal big results, eventually.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Jillian Michaels has come to join us.
It was girls' night out, and I showed up a little bit late. I hadn't seen some of these girls all summer, and I wasn't sure the reaction I would get when I arrived -- I've become even more fit, and I was wearing an outfit that modestly showed that off. Many of the other ladies had maintained, or possibly gained, over the summer.
Well, take it however you will (I take it as a compliment), when I walked in, one of my best friends said, "Oh look, Jillian Michaels has come to join us." I'm definitely nowhere near her fitness or expertise level, but I'm happy to be compared with someone who has a great reputation in the fitness world.
I saw Ms. Michaels in a restaurant in Downtown L.A. about 8 months ago, and she's teeny tiny; maybe 5 feet tall and probably 95 pounds of pure muscle. I'm glad I'm not as petite as she is, but I'd definitely like to be as lean. I'm getting there, and I won't stop until I'm satisfied... and even then, I want to maintain it for years to come.
I hope soon my friends will see me as a personal trainer who they want to enlist to help them get in better shape/health. For now, I'll just be an example: no appetizers, cocktail and cheesecake after 9 p.m., just water with lemon and a lot of laughs.
Well, take it however you will (I take it as a compliment), when I walked in, one of my best friends said, "Oh look, Jillian Michaels has come to join us." I'm definitely nowhere near her fitness or expertise level, but I'm happy to be compared with someone who has a great reputation in the fitness world.
I saw Ms. Michaels in a restaurant in Downtown L.A. about 8 months ago, and she's teeny tiny; maybe 5 feet tall and probably 95 pounds of pure muscle. I'm glad I'm not as petite as she is, but I'd definitely like to be as lean. I'm getting there, and I won't stop until I'm satisfied... and even then, I want to maintain it for years to come.
I hope soon my friends will see me as a personal trainer who they want to enlist to help them get in better shape/health. For now, I'll just be an example: no appetizers, cocktail and cheesecake after 9 p.m., just water with lemon and a lot of laughs.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Let's get naked
Why does it always seem like men don't mind stripping down in front of each other in the locker room? Movies and tv shows portray men hanging out naked together in any sort of locker room as "normal" (gym, country club, police station). Sure, there's often the funny scene where they are comparing themselves to someone else, but they remain nude together nonetheless.
I don't think the same thing goes for women. I'm not sure many of us ever want to be naked in front of one another for very long, if ever. I stay naked/partially naked a lot at home because I just can't seem to get clothes on without the little ones bothering me, and I also was breastfeeding until not long ago. So, at home it's a very normal thing for me and my girls to be au naturale. However, at the gym, I have no desire to be naked in front of or with any other female in the locker room.
My new gym, unfortunately, pretty much requires partial nudity because of the way it's set up. Talk about getting out of my comfort zone! It's designed so that you can't bring your gym bag or even your clothes into the shower area with you, or else they'll get drenched. There are no hangers or benches in there. So, you have to strip, stow your clothes, try to cover yourself with the smallish towels they give you, and then walk to the shower area. Who designed this locker room, a man? Anyway, now I have to figure out whether I want to shower there or head back to my other gym (which had a very comfortable setup for modesty), feign a workout, then take a shower there.
I'm not exactly sure what anyone can glean from today's ramblings, except to continue to understand my mind: I'm proud of how my body's shaping up, I love it when I get noticed (read my posts, "I'll take it" and "My grandma thinks I'm hot"), but I'm still modest and a bit insecure. I think that makes me a real badass woman -- I'm strong, I strive for excellence, but I am relatable. I hope others always see me that way, whether we're naked together in a locker room or hanging out having coffee.
I don't think the same thing goes for women. I'm not sure many of us ever want to be naked in front of one another for very long, if ever. I stay naked/partially naked a lot at home because I just can't seem to get clothes on without the little ones bothering me, and I also was breastfeeding until not long ago. So, at home it's a very normal thing for me and my girls to be au naturale. However, at the gym, I have no desire to be naked in front of or with any other female in the locker room.
My new gym, unfortunately, pretty much requires partial nudity because of the way it's set up. Talk about getting out of my comfort zone! It's designed so that you can't bring your gym bag or even your clothes into the shower area with you, or else they'll get drenched. There are no hangers or benches in there. So, you have to strip, stow your clothes, try to cover yourself with the smallish towels they give you, and then walk to the shower area. Who designed this locker room, a man? Anyway, now I have to figure out whether I want to shower there or head back to my other gym (which had a very comfortable setup for modesty), feign a workout, then take a shower there.
I'm not exactly sure what anyone can glean from today's ramblings, except to continue to understand my mind: I'm proud of how my body's shaping up, I love it when I get noticed (read my posts, "I'll take it" and "My grandma thinks I'm hot"), but I'm still modest and a bit insecure. I think that makes me a real badass woman -- I'm strong, I strive for excellence, but I am relatable. I hope others always see me that way, whether we're naked together in a locker room or hanging out having coffee.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Nice legs!
I went to the beach for Labor Day weekend with my girls and hubby. It was a wonderful and tiring time for all of us: an overworked husband, a sore mommy (I overdid it at the gym in preparation for a weekend of eating out), and a 3 1/2 and 1 1/2 year old in a new environment for 3 days. We were all happy to get out of the hot Valley, but it took a lot of work to make it manageable and fun.
Nonetheless, we went to the beach and pool a few times, and we seemed to all enjoy some fun in the sun, including my belly, which hasn't seen the light of day in years. I've either been pregnant or had a post-pregnancy belly for over 4 years now, which includes stretch marks that are too horrific for words (I'm not kidding, they're as bad as they can get). Regardless, I donned a two-piece at the beach, and I felt like everyone was staring.
No one was staring, except me ... at this woman who was probably 7 years older than me and who looked amazing. On the top half of her body, I'd say we were pretty much equal (toned arms and back, small, but perky chests, a moderately-defined four-pack). But her bottom half was exquisite. She looked like she had gone to great lengths to get her legs as well toned as they were.
I told my friend about her legs, and I think for a second, accusations of lesbianism came to mind. But I couldn't resist explaining how incredible her legs were. They were just about as short as mine (I'm only almost 5' 3"), but they sure looked longer than I perceive mine to look. They were shapely in all the right places, but not bulky.
All that to say, I have a renewed goal to get to an even better place on my lower body, and I also know that I want to keep it up well into my forties. I have seen in person that it's do-able. It wasn't easy, I'm sure, but do-able.
And maybe I'll figure out how to laser those stretch marks away. Or not. Maybe if I had a beach bod like that I wouldn't worry about hundreds of silvery stretch marks. Only time, hard work on my lower body, eating right (and possibly a bit more tanning) will tell.
Nonetheless, we went to the beach and pool a few times, and we seemed to all enjoy some fun in the sun, including my belly, which hasn't seen the light of day in years. I've either been pregnant or had a post-pregnancy belly for over 4 years now, which includes stretch marks that are too horrific for words (I'm not kidding, they're as bad as they can get). Regardless, I donned a two-piece at the beach, and I felt like everyone was staring.
No one was staring, except me ... at this woman who was probably 7 years older than me and who looked amazing. On the top half of her body, I'd say we were pretty much equal (toned arms and back, small, but perky chests, a moderately-defined four-pack). But her bottom half was exquisite. She looked like she had gone to great lengths to get her legs as well toned as they were.
I told my friend about her legs, and I think for a second, accusations of lesbianism came to mind. But I couldn't resist explaining how incredible her legs were. They were just about as short as mine (I'm only almost 5' 3"), but they sure looked longer than I perceive mine to look. They were shapely in all the right places, but not bulky.
All that to say, I have a renewed goal to get to an even better place on my lower body, and I also know that I want to keep it up well into my forties. I have seen in person that it's do-able. It wasn't easy, I'm sure, but do-able.
And maybe I'll figure out how to laser those stretch marks away. Or not. Maybe if I had a beach bod like that I wouldn't worry about hundreds of silvery stretch marks. Only time, hard work on my lower body, eating right (and possibly a bit more tanning) will tell.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
16 Again
I think it's everyone's fantasy to go back and be 16 again, even if it's just for a moment, to redeem oneself now that we are so much older and wiser. We would tell our young selves how to be "cooler" or how to get the guy/girl, or especially how not to make a huge impending mistake. One thing I dream about (literally, I have anxiety dreams about this all the time) is going back and competing as a cheerleader at a National competition. I dream I could go back in time and be a better gymnast, so that I wasn't limited in what I could do during competitions. That was my sport, my claim to fame and how I learned most about myself and my competitive drive/focus.
Sometimes, when I wake up from one of these dreams, I try to remember a cheer or a dance, and I stand in my room (all grown up) saying, "Ready, okay!". It's a bit on the ridiculous side, but it's fun to let a little silliness out every once in a while. The movements come back to me as if I were 16 again, until I get to the jumps.
Oh, I was an awesome jumper. I found out I was a good jumper when a guy I liked was about 5 rows up in the bleachers, and I wanted to impress him. I jumped as high as I could, and I found out that I could raise my rump about a foot and a half higher than any of the other girls, even those who were taller than me. From then on, I was the star jumper at competitions and performances.
For anyone who believes you can't be 16 again, I want you to know that by the end of the Fall, I'm gonna get my hops back. I may not get quite as much air as I used to, but I'm going to wake up one day and be able to do several jumps high and clean like the old days. Does that sound silly? As I write this, it sounds silly. But you know, it's an athletic goal, and I'm going to set my sights on it and achieve it.
If I can feel 16 again, I will, if only for a fleeting moment in the air.
Sometimes, when I wake up from one of these dreams, I try to remember a cheer or a dance, and I stand in my room (all grown up) saying, "Ready, okay!". It's a bit on the ridiculous side, but it's fun to let a little silliness out every once in a while. The movements come back to me as if I were 16 again, until I get to the jumps.
Oh, I was an awesome jumper. I found out I was a good jumper when a guy I liked was about 5 rows up in the bleachers, and I wanted to impress him. I jumped as high as I could, and I found out that I could raise my rump about a foot and a half higher than any of the other girls, even those who were taller than me. From then on, I was the star jumper at competitions and performances.
For anyone who believes you can't be 16 again, I want you to know that by the end of the Fall, I'm gonna get my hops back. I may not get quite as much air as I used to, but I'm going to wake up one day and be able to do several jumps high and clean like the old days. Does that sound silly? As I write this, it sounds silly. But you know, it's an athletic goal, and I'm going to set my sights on it and achieve it.
If I can feel 16 again, I will, if only for a fleeting moment in the air.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
More than you can chew
For the past several years, I've been trying to eat healthier and to cook healthier for me, my hubby and kids. Now that I'm more conscientious about my protein intake, I have had to make even more stringent choices about which ingredients I use. I wish I'd had this list sooner, but it will certainly help me form my shopping list every week:
List of High-Protein Foods and Amount of Protein in Each
Updated July 08, 2009
For the past several years, I've been trying to eat healthier and to cook healthier for me, my hubby and kids. Now that I'm more conscientious about my protein intake, I have had to make even more stringent choices about which ingredients I use. I wish I'd had this list sooner, but it will certainly help me form my shopping list every week:
List of High-Protein Foods and Amount of Protein in Each
Updated July 08, 2009
Beef
- Hamburger patty, 4 oz – 28 grams protein
- Steak, 6 oz – 42 grams
- Most cuts of beef – 7 grams of protein per ounce
Chicken
- Chicken breast, 3.5 oz - 30 grams protein
- Chicken thigh – 10 grams (for average size)
- Drumstick – 11 grams
- Wing – 6 grams
- Chicken meat, cooked, 4 oz – 35 grams
Fish
- Most fish fillets or steaks are about 22 grams of protein for 3 ½ oz (100 grams) of cooked fish, or 6 grams per ounce
- Tuna, 6 oz can - 40 grams of protein
Pork
- Pork chop, average - 22 grams protein
- Pork loin or tenderloin, 4 oz – 29 grams
- Ham, 3 oz serving – 19 grams
- Ground pork, 1 oz raw – 5 grams; 3 oz cooked – 22 grams
- Bacon, 1 slice – 3 grams
- Canadian-style bacon (back bacon), slice – 5 – 6 grams
Eggs and Dairy
- Egg, large - 6 grams protein
- Milk, 1 cup - 8 grams
- Cottage cheese, ½ cup - 15 grams
- Yogurt, 1 cup – usually 8-12 grams, check label
- Soft cheeses (Mozzarella, Brie, Camembert) – 6 grams per oz
- Medium cheeses (Cheddar, Swiss) – 7 or 8 grams per oz
- Hard cheeses (Parmesan) – 10 grams per oz
Beans (including soy)
- Tofu, ½ cup 20 grams protein
- Tofu, 1 oz, 2.3 grams
- Soy milk, 1 cup - 6 -10 grams
- Most beans (black, pinto, lentils, etc) about 7-10 grams protein per half cup of cooked beans
- Soy beans, ½ cup cooked – 14 grams protein
- Split peas, ½ cup cooked – 8 grams
Nuts and Seeds
- Peanut butter, 2 Tablespoons - 8 grams protein
- Almonds, ¼ cup – 8 grams
- Peanuts, ¼ cup – 9 grams
- Cashews, ¼ cup – 5 grams
- Pecans, ¼ cup – 2.5 grams
- Sunflower seeds, ¼ cup – 6 grams
- Pumpkin seeds, ¼ cup – 8 grams
- Flax seeds – ¼ cup – 8 grams
Ummmm....
So, I did my first workout at the new gym, and I felt so insecure. Even people who look confident on the outside can be very insecure and overwhelmed on the inside, believe me. I knew I would feel this way, so I wore my "Little Miss Bad" t-shirt, black lifting gloves and baseball cap to help me feel better. I may have looked badass, but I felt very lost.
Luckily, I was met by a familiar face, my friend who I used to chat with at the other gym. He gave me a warm hug and told me that he, too, "wasn't feelin' it" today. We exchanged encouragement, he showed me some new machines, and away we both went on our own workouts.
I'm happy to have had that experience today (and most likely for the next few times I go there). It reminded me that I chose to step out of my comfort zone to push myself emotionally and physically. As I was told a week ago, I'm "one of the big boys now", so I need to let go of my security blanket. Today, I let it go somewhere between the warm hug from my friend and 5 sets of 10 on a machine I have never seen before in my life.
Luckily, I was met by a familiar face, my friend who I used to chat with at the other gym. He gave me a warm hug and told me that he, too, "wasn't feelin' it" today. We exchanged encouragement, he showed me some new machines, and away we both went on our own workouts.
I'm happy to have had that experience today (and most likely for the next few times I go there). It reminded me that I chose to step out of my comfort zone to push myself emotionally and physically. As I was told a week ago, I'm "one of the big boys now", so I need to let go of my security blanket. Today, I let it go somewhere between the warm hug from my friend and 5 sets of 10 on a machine I have never seen before in my life.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
To Crunch or not to Crunch
No, I'm not talking about the abdominal "crunch". I don't do those, and I probably never will again. There's a whole lot more interesting ways to work those abs than crunches.
I'm talking about the new gym that opened up in town. I thought I'd go take a peek yesterday, but I told myself that I wouldn't make a decision to join the very first time I stepped in, since I had already re-upped my membership at my other gym.
Yadda yadda yadda (to quote Elaine on "Seinfeld"), I signed up, got the free gym bag and multivitamins, went home and regretted my decision. I felt like I was being frivolous, considering I had just paid for a full year for my other gym membership. I had to call my trainer.
"I think it's great," I heard on the other side of the phone, "You can go there after boxing class and do your lifting."
"But don't you think it's too much? It is a very pretty gym, and the machines are state-of-the-art, but I don't need it. I'm already getting flack from people telling me I'm working out too much as it is ... and now to join a second gym, how would it look?!"
"Those people are called 'haters'," was all I needed to hear from my trainer in order to feel better about my decision. The fact is, I love certain things about my "old" gym: the people, the classes, the locker room (yes, it's comfortable, not sterile). I am also going to really enjoy some things about the new gym: the cool new machines, getting out of my comfort zone, pushing myself to make new friends/workout buddies, new classes, and a fresh environment for my girls in child care.
Honestly, I think it is a good move for me and my girls. Instead of spending 10 hours/week in only one gym, where the girls are most often watching cartoons and not really playing too much, I'll split my time between the two, where the girls will meet new kids and also play a bit more in the new gym (there's no tv in there, if I recall).
I'm writing all of this down to show that there are lots of factors that go into the decision of where/how to divide our time when we are stay-at-home moms. We do think of ourselves and our own needs sometimes, but we also must factor in the children's needs. After all, that's our job, right? My decision to join was primarily for me, but it fits in well with my allotted workout time and also should be a good thing for the kids.
So, let's see how it all works out. I'm pretty sure it will be just fine.
I'm talking about the new gym that opened up in town. I thought I'd go take a peek yesterday, but I told myself that I wouldn't make a decision to join the very first time I stepped in, since I had already re-upped my membership at my other gym.
Yadda yadda yadda (to quote Elaine on "Seinfeld"), I signed up, got the free gym bag and multivitamins, went home and regretted my decision. I felt like I was being frivolous, considering I had just paid for a full year for my other gym membership. I had to call my trainer.
"I think it's great," I heard on the other side of the phone, "You can go there after boxing class and do your lifting."
"But don't you think it's too much? It is a very pretty gym, and the machines are state-of-the-art, but I don't need it. I'm already getting flack from people telling me I'm working out too much as it is ... and now to join a second gym, how would it look?!"
"Those people are called 'haters'," was all I needed to hear from my trainer in order to feel better about my decision. The fact is, I love certain things about my "old" gym: the people, the classes, the locker room (yes, it's comfortable, not sterile). I am also going to really enjoy some things about the new gym: the cool new machines, getting out of my comfort zone, pushing myself to make new friends/workout buddies, new classes, and a fresh environment for my girls in child care.
Honestly, I think it is a good move for me and my girls. Instead of spending 10 hours/week in only one gym, where the girls are most often watching cartoons and not really playing too much, I'll split my time between the two, where the girls will meet new kids and also play a bit more in the new gym (there's no tv in there, if I recall).
I'm writing all of this down to show that there are lots of factors that go into the decision of where/how to divide our time when we are stay-at-home moms. We do think of ourselves and our own needs sometimes, but we also must factor in the children's needs. After all, that's our job, right? My decision to join was primarily for me, but it fits in well with my allotted workout time and also should be a good thing for the kids.
So, let's see how it all works out. I'm pretty sure it will be just fine.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
One of the Big Boys
"That's how the big boys do it," he said, after he adjusted my form on my hanging knee raises. He saw me start to smile and then added, "Yes, you're one of the big boys now."
My trainer friend, Josh, likes to enhance my workouts by giving me tips on technique, etc. while he's waiting for his next client to come in. I don't take critiques so well from others, but there's something about this particular guy that's very disarming. Maybe it's because he's been a supporter of mine ever since I stepped foot in that gym over a year (and 60 lbs.) ago. Or maybe it's because he always seems to know what I need to hear or do.
Today was an unstructured day for me, and being the type of person I am, I felt dissatisfied by that. I had haphazardly put together a string of core/abs exercises and planned on running (begrudgingly) for a few miles on the treadmill. I don't know anyone who really likes doing ab work, and I really don't like running, but I have to train for my upcoming 5K. So, I was happy to have Josh intervene and give me a challenge and some encouragement before I began the grueling treadmill regime.
Like the Little Mrs. Bad that I know I am, I told myself, "Yes, you're one of the big boys now," and I ran with it... literally.
My trainer friend, Josh, likes to enhance my workouts by giving me tips on technique, etc. while he's waiting for his next client to come in. I don't take critiques so well from others, but there's something about this particular guy that's very disarming. Maybe it's because he's been a supporter of mine ever since I stepped foot in that gym over a year (and 60 lbs.) ago. Or maybe it's because he always seems to know what I need to hear or do.
Today was an unstructured day for me, and being the type of person I am, I felt dissatisfied by that. I had haphazardly put together a string of core/abs exercises and planned on running (begrudgingly) for a few miles on the treadmill. I don't know anyone who really likes doing ab work, and I really don't like running, but I have to train for my upcoming 5K. So, I was happy to have Josh intervene and give me a challenge and some encouragement before I began the grueling treadmill regime.
Like the Little Mrs. Bad that I know I am, I told myself, "Yes, you're one of the big boys now," and I ran with it... literally.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Training the Type-A
I'm a Type-A personality to the hilt: everything seems urgent, I keep a faster pace than many people, I am highly competitive with myself and others, and the price of my over achievement is stress. Luckily, I'm learning to deal with my daily stressors through regular exercise. Sadly, however, I have noticed that my personality has extended to my gym/exercise life, and it often makes me stressed about my workout schedule. I guess if it's not one thing, it's another, because I am who I am wherever I am.
So, being the typical Type-A, I think I understand what my Type-A client wants from a trainer:
1.) Punctuality - if he/she made the effort to be on time, then they fully expect me to be ready and waiting for them. My own trainer is a fantastic example of this. I am always satisfied to show up and get started right away, or I know that if I'm a tad early there's time for chit-chat.
2.) Keeping a quick pace - as soon as my client is done with an exercise, I instruct him/her to take a quick rest (I tailor rest timeframes to their needs), during which I explain what's next. Also, if he/she says, "What's next?", I have an answer right away. I don't keep them guessing.
3.) Assessing for the future - Before we begin, I ask how he/she felt last time, whether they were sore or not, and then as we wrap up I ask if this session seemed to meet expectations. I often have a notebook of exercises already written out, so that it's in writing for them to check their progress and also see where they're heading (are they going up or staying at the same weight, reps or sets).
I think I'm pretty good at the above practices, and I know my own trainer is good at this. That's how I've been able to stay on track for so long. Now, I just have to figure out how to be a little bit more laid back with my Type-B or Type-C clients. More on that as I learn...
So, being the typical Type-A, I think I understand what my Type-A client wants from a trainer:
1.) Punctuality - if he/she made the effort to be on time, then they fully expect me to be ready and waiting for them. My own trainer is a fantastic example of this. I am always satisfied to show up and get started right away, or I know that if I'm a tad early there's time for chit-chat.
2.) Keeping a quick pace - as soon as my client is done with an exercise, I instruct him/her to take a quick rest (I tailor rest timeframes to their needs), during which I explain what's next. Also, if he/she says, "What's next?", I have an answer right away. I don't keep them guessing.
3.) Assessing for the future - Before we begin, I ask how he/she felt last time, whether they were sore or not, and then as we wrap up I ask if this session seemed to meet expectations. I often have a notebook of exercises already written out, so that it's in writing for them to check their progress and also see where they're heading (are they going up or staying at the same weight, reps or sets).
I think I'm pretty good at the above practices, and I know my own trainer is good at this. That's how I've been able to stay on track for so long. Now, I just have to figure out how to be a little bit more laid back with my Type-B or Type-C clients. More on that as I learn...
Thank you, Sir. May I have another?
I often forget how "old" I am. I'm not really old, only 35, but some days my body feels its age and my brain seems shocked by how I feel. I think to myself, "Why am I so sore?" Then, I remember that over the course of the day I did 2 hours of strenuous exercise at the gym, held my 18 month old baby for an aggregate of several hours, walked the girls to the Mall and back (about 2.5 miles pushing the 25 pound double stroller and 55 pounds of children), scrubbed the floors and shampooed the carpets. That's not to mention running around picking up after the kids and straightening up all day long... and that's pretty much a typical day's worth of activity.
This weekend, I felt like my body had been pulverized. Yet, in the quiet hours when everyone was napping, I wanted to hop on the elliptical machine. Did I? No. I gave myself a break.
It's Monday morning, and I'm about ready to head to the gym for an hour of boxing and intense cardio, then training a client. Then, it's work/play with the kids and work around the house. Somehow, after half a day of tiresome activity, I have to muster the energy for a training session with a friend where I'll do who knows what.
I'm wondering why I'm doing all of this. I've lost almost all of the pounds I can lose, I'm pretty well toned, and it's really only down hill from here if I let myself go as I age. I guess it's because I like the feeling when I'm challenging myself, and I also have a bigger-picture goal to help others get to a better place physically. If I want to have a successful business of training others in the future, I have to be an example of courage, diligence and freedom to accept when I'm not "feelin' it"... or at least that's the thought I'm using to get through the day today.
This weekend, I felt like my body had been pulverized. Yet, in the quiet hours when everyone was napping, I wanted to hop on the elliptical machine. Did I? No. I gave myself a break.
It's Monday morning, and I'm about ready to head to the gym for an hour of boxing and intense cardio, then training a client. Then, it's work/play with the kids and work around the house. Somehow, after half a day of tiresome activity, I have to muster the energy for a training session with a friend where I'll do who knows what.
I'm wondering why I'm doing all of this. I've lost almost all of the pounds I can lose, I'm pretty well toned, and it's really only down hill from here if I let myself go as I age. I guess it's because I like the feeling when I'm challenging myself, and I also have a bigger-picture goal to help others get to a better place physically. If I want to have a successful business of training others in the future, I have to be an example of courage, diligence and freedom to accept when I'm not "feelin' it"... or at least that's the thought I'm using to get through the day today.
Friday, August 24, 2012
I'll take it
It didn't invoke chills or make me blush (that would be weird, considering I'm a heterosexual), but I got some pretty nice compliments from a hot, badass chick in the locker room today.
I see this chick around the gym all the time, but I've been too intimidated to meet her. I've heard she "competes", and I know she is very serious and regimented in her workouts. Normally, I can walk up to anyone and introduce myself while I'm there, but the ultra-buff people don't give me warm-fuzzies. I just feel too "normal" next to them. I'm sure they're nice people with normal lives, like me, but they're tan, cut, have strange voices (maybe it's the steroids?), and have fierce looks on their faces. I may be doing the same exercises as them, and sometimes even lifting the same amount of weight for the same amount of reps and sets. But rather than having blank eyes like they do, I'm usually smiling/bright-eyed or saying "hi" to someone. I want to be fierce without being intimidating. But this particular girl does not look approachable, so I don't ever bother, even when I need to use a machine after she's done without making her re-rack her weights. I simply stay out of her way and try not to look at her.
Nevertheless, we had an awkward incident in the locker room, where some of our stuff on the bench got mixed up as we were trying to pack up after our showers. She strangely interacted with me about her water bottle or something. I don't really remember. Then, she said (and this I remember), "You know, you have a really cute figure. I've seen you work really hard the past year, and your results are amazing."
I blushed and said, stuttering a little bit, "Thanks. I really do work hard. It's obvious you do, too," I said as I motioned to her body. Then, I gulped, hoping that this interaction would not carry on much further because it was already weird enough.
She came back with, "You should model."
I almost replied, "Did you lose your contacts in the shower?" But I held my tongue. I just told her that I'm thinking about it.
Truth is, I'd love to enter a fitness bikini contest in a couple of years. I approached my husband about it, and being the conservative that he is, he said, "I'm disappointed you even asked. Your heart should have already told you it was not okay." I tried to explain that there were some competitions where the bikinis are very regulated and not too skimpy, and that I would have a layer of spray tan all over my skin to act as a mask over my true self, but he fell asleep during the discussion (passive-aggressive much?).
Anyway, that's off the table for now. Maybe there will be some time when I can show off just a little bit to a broader audience, reviving the performer in me that has gone dormant. Or maybe not. Either way, I still have the goal to be as fit as I can be and look like those bikini contestants in some ways (not body-building, but lean, smooth muscle all over while maintaining some curves).
All-in-all, I enjoyed being complimented and encouraged by that girl. I think I'll smile at her when I see her at the gym next week.
I see this chick around the gym all the time, but I've been too intimidated to meet her. I've heard she "competes", and I know she is very serious and regimented in her workouts. Normally, I can walk up to anyone and introduce myself while I'm there, but the ultra-buff people don't give me warm-fuzzies. I just feel too "normal" next to them. I'm sure they're nice people with normal lives, like me, but they're tan, cut, have strange voices (maybe it's the steroids?), and have fierce looks on their faces. I may be doing the same exercises as them, and sometimes even lifting the same amount of weight for the same amount of reps and sets. But rather than having blank eyes like they do, I'm usually smiling/bright-eyed or saying "hi" to someone. I want to be fierce without being intimidating. But this particular girl does not look approachable, so I don't ever bother, even when I need to use a machine after she's done without making her re-rack her weights. I simply stay out of her way and try not to look at her.
Nevertheless, we had an awkward incident in the locker room, where some of our stuff on the bench got mixed up as we were trying to pack up after our showers. She strangely interacted with me about her water bottle or something. I don't really remember. Then, she said (and this I remember), "You know, you have a really cute figure. I've seen you work really hard the past year, and your results are amazing."
I blushed and said, stuttering a little bit, "Thanks. I really do work hard. It's obvious you do, too," I said as I motioned to her body. Then, I gulped, hoping that this interaction would not carry on much further because it was already weird enough.
She came back with, "You should model."
I almost replied, "Did you lose your contacts in the shower?" But I held my tongue. I just told her that I'm thinking about it.
Truth is, I'd love to enter a fitness bikini contest in a couple of years. I approached my husband about it, and being the conservative that he is, he said, "I'm disappointed you even asked. Your heart should have already told you it was not okay." I tried to explain that there were some competitions where the bikinis are very regulated and not too skimpy, and that I would have a layer of spray tan all over my skin to act as a mask over my true self, but he fell asleep during the discussion (passive-aggressive much?).
Anyway, that's off the table for now. Maybe there will be some time when I can show off just a little bit to a broader audience, reviving the performer in me that has gone dormant. Or maybe not. Either way, I still have the goal to be as fit as I can be and look like those bikini contestants in some ways (not body-building, but lean, smooth muscle all over while maintaining some curves).
All-in-all, I enjoyed being complimented and encouraged by that girl. I think I'll smile at her when I see her at the gym next week.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
28 and counting
Being very excited to finally get a date with my husband, I put on some short shorts and a kinda skimpy top and wedge heels, and I looked like a cute little momma. He even said I looked great, with that lovely twinkly smile that I rarely see these days because he's overworked. We walked to the Downtown area of our hometown for a late dinner, and I had a skip in my step the whole way.
The most glaring adornments I wore tonight, however, were the 28 bruises that are scattered all over my skin. If bruises were ever considered sexy, I'd have been the hottest girl in town tonight. Luckily, the restaurant was dim, and so were the streets, so no one had to see the mutilation. I really only noticed how many I had when I was changing to go to bed.
I honestly don't know how I could have gotten some of those bruises, a few of which are in very strange places. Some of them are from practicing elbows and kicks with my trainer just this afternoon. But some of them had to have been from my little ones, who pinch and squeeze parts of my legs that rarely get much action.
Nevertheless, I own my bruises because they mean I'm giving it my all, whether because I elbowed hard during training or because I require little to no personal space apart from my children. So, 28 and counting sounds like a good place to start the day tomorrow. I wonder how many more I'll wear to bed tomorrow night.
The most glaring adornments I wore tonight, however, were the 28 bruises that are scattered all over my skin. If bruises were ever considered sexy, I'd have been the hottest girl in town tonight. Luckily, the restaurant was dim, and so were the streets, so no one had to see the mutilation. I really only noticed how many I had when I was changing to go to bed.
I honestly don't know how I could have gotten some of those bruises, a few of which are in very strange places. Some of them are from practicing elbows and kicks with my trainer just this afternoon. But some of them had to have been from my little ones, who pinch and squeeze parts of my legs that rarely get much action.
Nevertheless, I own my bruises because they mean I'm giving it my all, whether because I elbowed hard during training or because I require little to no personal space apart from my children. So, 28 and counting sounds like a good place to start the day tomorrow. I wonder how many more I'll wear to bed tomorrow night.
"Look Good, Feel Good, Do Good"
My paternal grandmother, who was a Journalism major at USC in the early 1940's, used to think it was so funny to use poor grammar around me. I grew up in Texas during the early years, and I had no idea that what she was saying was incorrect. Everyone there had poor grammar, so I couldn't tell the difference. That bothered her.
When my twin brother and I were 11, however, my parents decided to move us "home" to Southern California. Slowly, I acclimated, and now I can't possibly think of myself as anything other than a "Valley Girl". I act like one, I talk like one, and I see the world differently than I would have if I'd been raised until adulthood in Arlington, Texas. And I love the So. Cal girl that I am.
Back to the grammar: Feeling lousy right before I was off to a National cheerleading competition in Anaheim, my grandma encouraged me to put on a shade lighter lipstick. She told me something that I repeat often, "Look good, feel good, do good." It made me laugh because I knew it was one of those instances when she was trying to cheer me up by being grammatically incorrect, but the message was actually pretty profound to me at the time.
Taking that to heart almost every day of my life since then, I wear makeup pretty much every minute, unless just out of the shower or in bed for the night. I don't always wear lipstick, but I definitely do if I need a little extra to help me "feel good, do good".
Today is one of those days. I was a bit lazy this morning, exercise-wise, but I made myself busy with the kids and around the house. By 1:30 in the afternoon, I was so tired and unmotivated to get ready for my training session that I needed a re-application of my makeup. Now, all made up, I'm ready to go sweat it almost completely off (except the mascara, which is waterproof).
I don't feel weird about this in the least. Most of the female Olympic athletes wore makeup during the games two weeks ago (and often other adornments, like earrings, necklaces, hair accessories, etc.), and that wasn't only for the cameras, I'm pretty sure. They are badass ladies who want to look good while sweating profusely, fighting for their personal bests and medals, and while accepting the accolades they deserve. Why shouldn't I do the same?
When my twin brother and I were 11, however, my parents decided to move us "home" to Southern California. Slowly, I acclimated, and now I can't possibly think of myself as anything other than a "Valley Girl". I act like one, I talk like one, and I see the world differently than I would have if I'd been raised until adulthood in Arlington, Texas. And I love the So. Cal girl that I am.
Back to the grammar: Feeling lousy right before I was off to a National cheerleading competition in Anaheim, my grandma encouraged me to put on a shade lighter lipstick. She told me something that I repeat often, "Look good, feel good, do good." It made me laugh because I knew it was one of those instances when she was trying to cheer me up by being grammatically incorrect, but the message was actually pretty profound to me at the time.
Taking that to heart almost every day of my life since then, I wear makeup pretty much every minute, unless just out of the shower or in bed for the night. I don't always wear lipstick, but I definitely do if I need a little extra to help me "feel good, do good".
Today is one of those days. I was a bit lazy this morning, exercise-wise, but I made myself busy with the kids and around the house. By 1:30 in the afternoon, I was so tired and unmotivated to get ready for my training session that I needed a re-application of my makeup. Now, all made up, I'm ready to go sweat it almost completely off (except the mascara, which is waterproof).
I don't feel weird about this in the least. Most of the female Olympic athletes wore makeup during the games two weeks ago (and often other adornments, like earrings, necklaces, hair accessories, etc.), and that wasn't only for the cameras, I'm pretty sure. They are badass ladies who want to look good while sweating profusely, fighting for their personal bests and medals, and while accepting the accolades they deserve. Why shouldn't I do the same?
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Do what now?
"You gotta loosen up," said my trainer, as I ran a sprint drill.
"I know, but..." my voice trailed off because I had nothing good to say in response. I might have said something about pipettes.
I wouldn't characterize much of anything I've ever done as "loose".
During my younger years, I had been a high-ranking cheerleader and high-jumper, which require precise movements. I was in music, drama and dance. I had laser focus, and I did fairly well. I was also an excellent student in high school and made it into UCLA. I graduated with a degree in Molecular, Cell and Developmental Biology while working, volunteering and being active in a sorority. After college, I helped support my husband and myself while he embarked on his medical school journey, some of it was through laboratory work prior to my entering graduate school (which included a lot of precise pipetting). Finally, and most importantly, I was almost always a faithful Christian girl who followed the rules -- always a Christian, not always a rule-follower.
I pushed my own limits and was a competitor and a star. But rarely, if ever, did I let myself loosen, or else my very intricate house of cards would come tumbling down. I tried to loosen up a few times, following my instincts rather than my intuition and beliefs, and I fell hard. And those falls left scars. I don't know how to loosen up just enough to accomplish something that needs a little levity without giving up all my control. It's a terrible type A personality trait, but it's instinctual.
I know I'm there again: teetering on the edge of loosening up or keeping it all tight. I've chosen exercises and routines that are "safe" and "tight". Weight lifting is precise. Strength training is, to me, a lot like dancing: if I learn the movements and do them correctly, I can achieve perfect form and excellent results.
Boxing is, well, taking me out of my comfort zone, but that class is an aerobic/strength training class that is not designed to teach perfect form. Of course, the boxing and kicking are the most frustrating parts of that class for me. Yet, the bag work strokes my inner badass and compels me to reexamine myself. (If my instructor is reading this, he's probably thinking, "Is she mental? It's only a class at the local gym. Lighten up!")
And there's the rub. How do I loosen up without going into unsafe territory? But how do I get to where I want to be without loosening up?
For now, I'll run more sprint drills, try to loosen up while I run, box or kick and check myself (before I wreck myself).
"I know, but..." my voice trailed off because I had nothing good to say in response. I might have said something about pipettes.
I wouldn't characterize much of anything I've ever done as "loose".
During my younger years, I had been a high-ranking cheerleader and high-jumper, which require precise movements. I was in music, drama and dance. I had laser focus, and I did fairly well. I was also an excellent student in high school and made it into UCLA. I graduated with a degree in Molecular, Cell and Developmental Biology while working, volunteering and being active in a sorority. After college, I helped support my husband and myself while he embarked on his medical school journey, some of it was through laboratory work prior to my entering graduate school (which included a lot of precise pipetting). Finally, and most importantly, I was almost always a faithful Christian girl who followed the rules -- always a Christian, not always a rule-follower.
I pushed my own limits and was a competitor and a star. But rarely, if ever, did I let myself loosen, or else my very intricate house of cards would come tumbling down. I tried to loosen up a few times, following my instincts rather than my intuition and beliefs, and I fell hard. And those falls left scars. I don't know how to loosen up just enough to accomplish something that needs a little levity without giving up all my control. It's a terrible type A personality trait, but it's instinctual.
I know I'm there again: teetering on the edge of loosening up or keeping it all tight. I've chosen exercises and routines that are "safe" and "tight". Weight lifting is precise. Strength training is, to me, a lot like dancing: if I learn the movements and do them correctly, I can achieve perfect form and excellent results.
Boxing is, well, taking me out of my comfort zone, but that class is an aerobic/strength training class that is not designed to teach perfect form. Of course, the boxing and kicking are the most frustrating parts of that class for me. Yet, the bag work strokes my inner badass and compels me to reexamine myself. (If my instructor is reading this, he's probably thinking, "Is she mental? It's only a class at the local gym. Lighten up!")
And there's the rub. How do I loosen up without going into unsafe territory? But how do I get to where I want to be without loosening up?
For now, I'll run more sprint drills, try to loosen up while I run, box or kick and check myself (before I wreck myself).
My grandma thinks I'm hot
At least my 86 year-old grandma thinks I'm hot. I'm sure my husband does, too, but he's so tired from working 75+ hours per week that he's dizzy and blurry-eyed when he gets home. Plus, we've been married so long that he says he doesn't care what I look like -- he's in love with me more and more every day.
That's all well and good, but a girl just needs to feel "hot" every once in a while (and not only in the "heat of the moment"). Holler, Ladies!
At lunch today, my grandma, who speaks broken English and doesn't carry on much of a conversation asked me if I had lost more weight. I was with my mom, too, and I didn't want to make it sound like I was trying to lose more weight (just in case she thought I was becoming a fanatic). So, I just shrugged and said, "I guess".
Then my grandma said, "Well, I think you look sexy." My mom shot her a look that said, "This is highly inappropriate," but somehow it made me feel a little better.
I thought someone out there in cyberspace might just find that little tete a tete as hilarious as I'm finding it right now. I mean, I must be hard up for compliments at the moment if my confidence is boosted by her, of all people.
This is the plight of this sort-of-lonely, yet very loved, housewife who is proud of herself and her body (especially after having lost so much weight): keeping a lower profile, yet still wanting some satisfaction. That is when I just have to remember why I'm doing all of this -- forget everyone else and what they think/say; I'm trying to prove to myself that I can rise above the fear and the pain and imperfections, so that when another painful or difficult situation comes I know I can make it through.
That's all well and good, but a girl just needs to feel "hot" every once in a while (and not only in the "heat of the moment"). Holler, Ladies!
At lunch today, my grandma, who speaks broken English and doesn't carry on much of a conversation asked me if I had lost more weight. I was with my mom, too, and I didn't want to make it sound like I was trying to lose more weight (just in case she thought I was becoming a fanatic). So, I just shrugged and said, "I guess".
Then my grandma said, "Well, I think you look sexy." My mom shot her a look that said, "This is highly inappropriate," but somehow it made me feel a little better.
I thought someone out there in cyberspace might just find that little tete a tete as hilarious as I'm finding it right now. I mean, I must be hard up for compliments at the moment if my confidence is boosted by her, of all people.
This is the plight of this sort-of-lonely, yet very loved, housewife who is proud of herself and her body (especially after having lost so much weight): keeping a lower profile, yet still wanting some satisfaction. That is when I just have to remember why I'm doing all of this -- forget everyone else and what they think/say; I'm trying to prove to myself that I can rise above the fear and the pain and imperfections, so that when another painful or difficult situation comes I know I can make it through.
Now you see me
Okay, as of today, I wouldn't consider myself an expert, though the subtitle of my blog says it's about how I am transforming into a "badass fitness expert". But I believe that you can't become something unless you see yourself there first. In a year from now, I intend to have a base of several personal training clients, along with an early morning bootcamp group.
I would consider myself skilled, but not where I want to be. That'll come with time and additional training. For now, I'm gearing up for the future, working with a trainer, training myself, training a couple others, learning more about diet and nutrition, and trying to make this goal a reality.
I find myself eating, breathing, living and even sleeping fitness. If I put this much effort into cleaning my home, it would be immaculate. Too bad my body and home take time and dedicated effort to keep clean and tidy. I'm trying to find a healthy balance between training (myself and others) and household and family duties, and so far, both body and home are in good shape. Neither is excellent, but neither are in dire need of an overhaul. Also, my little ones are well cared for, and I try to maintain enough energy for my husband when he comes home.
One major reason for this lifestyle is that I'm alone a lot. My husband has been working an average of 75 hours per week for the past many, many months, and I'm raising the little ones on my own most of the time. He's a wonderful daddy when he's home, and his goal is to be an expert in his field so that he can land a position with more family flexibility. But for now, I have found an arena where I can express my inner badass, including competitiveness, energy, focus and strength, and child care is available and affordable.
Let's see what happens in a year from now. I hope both my husband and I achieve our goals, and we have more time and energy as a family to live life to the fullest -- together. It's going to be an interesting year as we move toward a more stable future. We are doing our best to embrace the struggle, define ourselves by our accomplishments and positive attitudes, and trust God about the rest.
I would consider myself skilled, but not where I want to be. That'll come with time and additional training. For now, I'm gearing up for the future, working with a trainer, training myself, training a couple others, learning more about diet and nutrition, and trying to make this goal a reality.
I find myself eating, breathing, living and even sleeping fitness. If I put this much effort into cleaning my home, it would be immaculate. Too bad my body and home take time and dedicated effort to keep clean and tidy. I'm trying to find a healthy balance between training (myself and others) and household and family duties, and so far, both body and home are in good shape. Neither is excellent, but neither are in dire need of an overhaul. Also, my little ones are well cared for, and I try to maintain enough energy for my husband when he comes home.
One major reason for this lifestyle is that I'm alone a lot. My husband has been working an average of 75 hours per week for the past many, many months, and I'm raising the little ones on my own most of the time. He's a wonderful daddy when he's home, and his goal is to be an expert in his field so that he can land a position with more family flexibility. But for now, I have found an arena where I can express my inner badass, including competitiveness, energy, focus and strength, and child care is available and affordable.
Let's see what happens in a year from now. I hope both my husband and I achieve our goals, and we have more time and energy as a family to live life to the fullest -- together. It's going to be an interesting year as we move toward a more stable future. We are doing our best to embrace the struggle, define ourselves by our accomplishments and positive attitudes, and trust God about the rest.
No apologies
I was on Google late one evening after the kids had been put down to bed, and I decided to look up, "What does a badass woman look like?" I came across someone's blog, and she had compiled a list of do's and don'ts for being a badass woman. One of the descriptors that stuck with me is that she doesn't apologize for being fierce. Also, she embraces the struggle when she isn't feeling "bad".
Yesterday, I had my monthly friend arrive just in time to make me want to excuse myself from my bootcamp boxing class and subsequent training session with a friend. But I went to both anyway. I felt lousy in class, huffed and puffed the whole time, hid in the corner during one of the running drills, and clutched my belly during jumping jacks and high knees. The instructor, who is now a friend, motioned to me that maybe I should get some rest.
Always striving to be better each class, I left feeling like I had failed ... then, I remembered that I just did an hour of cardio and strength exercises to the best of my ability under substandard physical condition. So, I gave myself license to not feel like I had to apologize for being "wimpy". I didn't even hang my head or fold my arms as I left class. I told myself I was just going to embrace the struggle.
Then, I did only "okay" in a training session later in the day. I went against my better judgment and asked my friend to skip a certain exercise because I just didn't feel like looking stupid while learning how to do it better. I almost succumbed to my inner pressure to fold, but I simply remained honest and told my friend that I felt insecure. We did a little bit more, and then we moved on.
Yesterday, I was off-and-on, but I exhibited badassery nonetheless. Today's a new day, and I can't wait to see what it brings: struggle, insecurity, hopefulness, joy? Either way, I'm gonna approach it head on, without apologies.
Yesterday, I had my monthly friend arrive just in time to make me want to excuse myself from my bootcamp boxing class and subsequent training session with a friend. But I went to both anyway. I felt lousy in class, huffed and puffed the whole time, hid in the corner during one of the running drills, and clutched my belly during jumping jacks and high knees. The instructor, who is now a friend, motioned to me that maybe I should get some rest.
Always striving to be better each class, I left feeling like I had failed ... then, I remembered that I just did an hour of cardio and strength exercises to the best of my ability under substandard physical condition. So, I gave myself license to not feel like I had to apologize for being "wimpy". I didn't even hang my head or fold my arms as I left class. I told myself I was just going to embrace the struggle.
Then, I did only "okay" in a training session later in the day. I went against my better judgment and asked my friend to skip a certain exercise because I just didn't feel like looking stupid while learning how to do it better. I almost succumbed to my inner pressure to fold, but I simply remained honest and told my friend that I felt insecure. We did a little bit more, and then we moved on.
Yesterday, I was off-and-on, but I exhibited badassery nonetheless. Today's a new day, and I can't wait to see what it brings: struggle, insecurity, hopefulness, joy? Either way, I'm gonna approach it head on, without apologies.
My obsession with competition
Three times in one week was all it took to get me hooked. I was sore, had lost at least 1/4 lb in sweat alone each time, had developed early signs of carpal tunnel syndrome, and I had never felt better in my life. I'm now addicted to that boxing bootcamp class.
I fiercely compete with myself in there. I watch myself: my form, my face, my breathing, my sweat patterns, my jiggly parts, my less jiggly parts. When I'm in front of the bag, I disregard the reality that I may look like a hot mess, I'm not the most fit person in there, I'm not able to do everything completely or perfectly. I just compete to be better than I was the class time before.
My goal is to be able to complete that class without stopping before the instructor tells us to. He gives plenty of breaks, but the sets of intense activities seem to go on far longer than my body wants to do them. For example, squat jumps, push ups, heavy punching and dive bombers seem to last more seconds than I can push through. But I'll get there.
I'm obsessed with the competition between me and myself in this class because it's one of the only ways I have the time and ability to express my competitive nature right now. I've always been an athlete and competitor at heart, and I've often been able to live it out. During this phase of having small children, having limited child care (and not wanting to put them in preschool for personal reasons), and being a homemaker, it's been difficult finding something to compete in. But this class has given me a small taste of that feeling again.
And it hurts so good.
I fiercely compete with myself in there. I watch myself: my form, my face, my breathing, my sweat patterns, my jiggly parts, my less jiggly parts. When I'm in front of the bag, I disregard the reality that I may look like a hot mess, I'm not the most fit person in there, I'm not able to do everything completely or perfectly. I just compete to be better than I was the class time before.
My goal is to be able to complete that class without stopping before the instructor tells us to. He gives plenty of breaks, but the sets of intense activities seem to go on far longer than my body wants to do them. For example, squat jumps, push ups, heavy punching and dive bombers seem to last more seconds than I can push through. But I'll get there.
I'm obsessed with the competition between me and myself in this class because it's one of the only ways I have the time and ability to express my competitive nature right now. I've always been an athlete and competitor at heart, and I've often been able to live it out. During this phase of having small children, having limited child care (and not wanting to put them in preschool for personal reasons), and being a homemaker, it's been difficult finding something to compete in. But this class has given me a small taste of that feeling again.
And it hurts so good.
The gloves
After avoiding any kind of organized fitness class at the gym for almost a year, not wanting to look like all the other dumbies sweating beyond those glass walls, I finally got roped into a boxing bootcamp class. My brother and sister-in-law were dedicated to it, and they said I would be able to handle it. So, I went to that class, though I didn't have gloves.
I had to go ask the instructor if I could borrow some. Luckily, that day there were a pair hanging around, and the instructor helped me strap them on and away I went. Those were the stinkiest things I've ever had on my hands, and let's not forget I was still changing full, poopy diapers and wiping bottoms on toilets full of poo-poo and pee-pee all day long. I thought I was going to puke during that class for a bunch of reasons, the smell being the main one.
When I got home, my husband was excited that I had attended the class, stuck it out until the end and desired to return a couple of days later. I was proud to tell him about the experience, but I figured I'd just linger in the class a couple more times before committing.
The next day, when my husband arrived home from work, he brought home a pair of hot pink gloves that seemed to glow. Oh my goodness! They coordinated with my "Little Miss Bad" t-shirt perfectly! It was so silly to get so excited, but it was as if he somehow knew that those hot pink, glowy, over-the-top gloves would give me the extra push to want to go back to that class.
You bet I went to class two days later. I donned my favorite t-shirt, my pink shoes, my black stretchy pants and those hot pink gloves, and I hit that bag like I meant it. And I felt badass in a way I never have before.
I had to go ask the instructor if I could borrow some. Luckily, that day there were a pair hanging around, and the instructor helped me strap them on and away I went. Those were the stinkiest things I've ever had on my hands, and let's not forget I was still changing full, poopy diapers and wiping bottoms on toilets full of poo-poo and pee-pee all day long. I thought I was going to puke during that class for a bunch of reasons, the smell being the main one.
When I got home, my husband was excited that I had attended the class, stuck it out until the end and desired to return a couple of days later. I was proud to tell him about the experience, but I figured I'd just linger in the class a couple more times before committing.
The next day, when my husband arrived home from work, he brought home a pair of hot pink gloves that seemed to glow. Oh my goodness! They coordinated with my "Little Miss Bad" t-shirt perfectly! It was so silly to get so excited, but it was as if he somehow knew that those hot pink, glowy, over-the-top gloves would give me the extra push to want to go back to that class.
You bet I went to class two days later. I donned my favorite t-shirt, my pink shoes, my black stretchy pants and those hot pink gloves, and I hit that bag like I meant it. And I felt badass in a way I never have before.
Monday, August 20, 2012
The stalemate
After about 18 pounds had been shed, I was hitting a wall. I hit a stalemate for five weeks at 146 (my goal weight at the time was 125)! I was working out pretty hard for 40 minutes 3 times per week with my trainer, and I had just stopped nursing the baby, so an extra 10 pounds should've just come off within days.
I had a dirty little secret, though. I was still overeating. Overeating had never been an issue for me. I once told a friend of mine (kind of jokingly, but still truthfully) that when I was younger I could eat a big, cold dill pickle as a snack and be full. But that wasn't the case anymore. I was in denial about my problem, and I made the excuse that I couldn't be hungry all the time if I wanted to be a good mommy to my little girls. I didn't want to be exhausted from workouts and hungry -- that just wouldn't be prudent.
I told my trainer that I was following her suggestions, but I was eating twice as much as she suggested at every meal, and I was snacking too much. Though I had chosen mostly healthy foods, my carb intake was almost 4 times as much as it should have been for dramatic weight loss.
Once I decided to get honest with myself, I started measuring my quantities and going "hungry". I didn't starve myself, but I wasn't pleasantly satiated or full. I did get a bit testy with the girls and my husband for a while there, and I did often tearfully question if it was worth it.
Then one day, I broke through. I was 145 pounds, only 20 pounds away from my goal weight. Summer was 6 months away, and by golly, I was motivated again. That's when I bought my "Little Miss Bad" t-shirt (see post, "the shirt becomes her"), and my workout life took a 180.
I had a dirty little secret, though. I was still overeating. Overeating had never been an issue for me. I once told a friend of mine (kind of jokingly, but still truthfully) that when I was younger I could eat a big, cold dill pickle as a snack and be full. But that wasn't the case anymore. I was in denial about my problem, and I made the excuse that I couldn't be hungry all the time if I wanted to be a good mommy to my little girls. I didn't want to be exhausted from workouts and hungry -- that just wouldn't be prudent.
I told my trainer that I was following her suggestions, but I was eating twice as much as she suggested at every meal, and I was snacking too much. Though I had chosen mostly healthy foods, my carb intake was almost 4 times as much as it should have been for dramatic weight loss.
Once I decided to get honest with myself, I started measuring my quantities and going "hungry". I didn't starve myself, but I wasn't pleasantly satiated or full. I did get a bit testy with the girls and my husband for a while there, and I did often tearfully question if it was worth it.
Then one day, I broke through. I was 145 pounds, only 20 pounds away from my goal weight. Summer was 6 months away, and by golly, I was motivated again. That's when I bought my "Little Miss Bad" t-shirt (see post, "the shirt becomes her"), and my workout life took a 180.
My first time
My first day with my personal trainer was very interesting, to say the least. She was this young, cute, Asian girl with a big smile and perky ... everything. Even though I didn't choose to go with the snarky little trainer dude who first approached me, this little girl made me feel just as intimidated at first.
I'm pretty sure she went easy on me the first day, and I don't remember exactly what she made me do (she still has my workout journal from way back then -- hey sweetie, if you're reading this, I want it). All I know is that I was paying her a lot of money to make me feel terrible about myself. That's not fair. I take it back. She was very reassuring and kind, and she was with me every step of the way. Yet, I still felt so insecure I could hardly keep the vomit down during my workouts for the first several weeks.
I'll never forget the first time she had me get down on a floor mat and do something face down, then turn over and do something else. The exercises didn't matter, but what did matter to me was that I felt like a beached whale. I couldn't turn over. I wasn't obese, but my stomach muscles had atrophied so badly after two fairly consecutive pregnancies that it was impossible to turn over without using every other muscle in my body to help out.
That experience wasn't even my wake up call. Weekly, I made excuses for why I couldn't change my diet: I was still nursing and needed the extra caloric intake to provide nutrients to my poor, helpless infant. I made excuses for why I couldn't work out more: I can't leave my little ones in child care so much - they need me too much right now. I made excuses for why I didn't have to get out of my maternity clothes: if I just pin them like this and like that, no one will ever know they're maternity clothes, and I don't want to spend money on clothes until I shrink more.
Interestingly, I began training a woman in her 50's several months ago, and the first time I made her do some sort of front to back thing on the floor, she made the same movement I did. Only, hers wasn't from having low muscle tone from pregnancies, it was under-use over lots of years. My experience helped me encourage her to keep going but to never forget that feeling of her "first time" on the floor. (I'm proud to say she's still training with me and becoming more and more fit each day.)
I hope I never forget that day, either. I hope I can continue to use it to help others, and I hope it compels me to never be complacent with my body. I want to keep pushing myself harder and harder to face my fears and rise above my challenges, to embrace the life of a true "badass" -- a woman who doesn't apologize for being courageous and getting the job done fiercely.
I'm pretty sure she went easy on me the first day, and I don't remember exactly what she made me do (she still has my workout journal from way back then -- hey sweetie, if you're reading this, I want it). All I know is that I was paying her a lot of money to make me feel terrible about myself. That's not fair. I take it back. She was very reassuring and kind, and she was with me every step of the way. Yet, I still felt so insecure I could hardly keep the vomit down during my workouts for the first several weeks.
I'll never forget the first time she had me get down on a floor mat and do something face down, then turn over and do something else. The exercises didn't matter, but what did matter to me was that I felt like a beached whale. I couldn't turn over. I wasn't obese, but my stomach muscles had atrophied so badly after two fairly consecutive pregnancies that it was impossible to turn over without using every other muscle in my body to help out.
That experience wasn't even my wake up call. Weekly, I made excuses for why I couldn't change my diet: I was still nursing and needed the extra caloric intake to provide nutrients to my poor, helpless infant. I made excuses for why I couldn't work out more: I can't leave my little ones in child care so much - they need me too much right now. I made excuses for why I didn't have to get out of my maternity clothes: if I just pin them like this and like that, no one will ever know they're maternity clothes, and I don't want to spend money on clothes until I shrink more.
Interestingly, I began training a woman in her 50's several months ago, and the first time I made her do some sort of front to back thing on the floor, she made the same movement I did. Only, hers wasn't from having low muscle tone from pregnancies, it was under-use over lots of years. My experience helped me encourage her to keep going but to never forget that feeling of her "first time" on the floor. (I'm proud to say she's still training with me and becoming more and more fit each day.)
I hope I never forget that day, either. I hope I can continue to use it to help others, and I hope it compels me to never be complacent with my body. I want to keep pushing myself harder and harder to face my fears and rise above my challenges, to embrace the life of a true "badass" -- a woman who doesn't apologize for being courageous and getting the job done fiercely.
The shirt becomes her
The first time I set foot in the gym near my home, I wore my maternity pants and one of my husband's t-shirts. Oh, I looked like I did NOT want to be there. I reluctantly signed up for a membership, at which time I'm sure the good-looking young man behind the counter was snickering, saying to himself, "I bet this is the last time I'll see her in here for another month."
Then, as I impatiently leaned against the wall waiting for a recumbent bike (the easiest machine on the whole main floor), some super young, super cut little dude came up to me with a weird smirk and asked if I needed any help. I said I was fine, and that I was just waiting for a bike. He pointed me to the whole line of other machines and said, "Why wait? You're here. Just do it." I smirked back, hunched down a little bit more, crossed my arms and kept waiting. He walked away looking offended that I wouldn't enlist his training expertise to whip this overweight, post-maternity body into shape.
I just knew that I could not lose the weight on my own. Not after the second baby. There was little motivation. After all, I had a perfect excuse: I had just had my baby, and everyone knows that it takes just as long to get off the weight as it does to put it on (roughly 9 months). But my baby was already 5 months old, and I was still carrying about 50 extra pounds. My secondary excuse was even more perfectly acceptable: moms in their 30's and 40's can get away with being "chubby". They've got so much on their plates that they don't have time or energy to lose the weight. Plus, who's looking anyway? I was 33, happily married, a mother of two small girls, and I hang around with my church girlfriends and other goody-goodies around town. Why would it matter if I were thin and hot ever again?
I dragged myself in to see a trainer twice a week to start. The child care was excellent at the gym, so that was a motivating factor: cheap babysitting while I did something other than change poopy diapers and/or do my other important motherly duties; and cheap babysitting while I took long, hot showers and did my hair and makeup. Shoot, my workout was only 30 minutes, but I maxed my time out there to a good 2 hours.
When I walked out of there, I felt badly about myself because I was still overweight, but I felt better because at least I had my hair and makeup done for when my husband came home -- well, in theory that was true, but if this all occurred in the morning, everything would have gone to heck by the time he saw me 7 hours later. Nonetheless, I was motivated to keep going.
After I had lost nearly 20 pounds, I had to find more motivation. I was still overweight, but I couldn't stand sharing my husband's t-shirts anymore, and the maternity pants needed to go. I went to buy a more fitted shirt for my workouts at the thrift store. I wasn't about to spend more than $1 on a lousy top, when I was only going to get it sweaty and stinky in a matter of minutes. So, as I perused the $1 rack, I found a size Sm, and I decided to just go ahead and get it, even if it was a bit snug.
I didn't know then that I had just bought the t-shirt that has changed my life. It has a hot pink "Little Miss Bad" character from Hargreaves' "Little Miss" collection, most often known for "Little Miss Sunshine". I tried it on at home, and yes, it was snug, but the first day I wore it to the gym I told myself, "I can be bad." Not naughty-bad, but "badass"-bad. Okay, I don't curse often, if at all, but "badass" is a term that I am going to proclaim as slang, not cursing. It originated in the 1960's, and it means to be excellent or tough. I claimed that for myself that day, and henceforth I am "Little Mrs. Bad".
Then, as I impatiently leaned against the wall waiting for a recumbent bike (the easiest machine on the whole main floor), some super young, super cut little dude came up to me with a weird smirk and asked if I needed any help. I said I was fine, and that I was just waiting for a bike. He pointed me to the whole line of other machines and said, "Why wait? You're here. Just do it." I smirked back, hunched down a little bit more, crossed my arms and kept waiting. He walked away looking offended that I wouldn't enlist his training expertise to whip this overweight, post-maternity body into shape.
I just knew that I could not lose the weight on my own. Not after the second baby. There was little motivation. After all, I had a perfect excuse: I had just had my baby, and everyone knows that it takes just as long to get off the weight as it does to put it on (roughly 9 months). But my baby was already 5 months old, and I was still carrying about 50 extra pounds. My secondary excuse was even more perfectly acceptable: moms in their 30's and 40's can get away with being "chubby". They've got so much on their plates that they don't have time or energy to lose the weight. Plus, who's looking anyway? I was 33, happily married, a mother of two small girls, and I hang around with my church girlfriends and other goody-goodies around town. Why would it matter if I were thin and hot ever again?
I dragged myself in to see a trainer twice a week to start. The child care was excellent at the gym, so that was a motivating factor: cheap babysitting while I did something other than change poopy diapers and/or do my other important motherly duties; and cheap babysitting while I took long, hot showers and did my hair and makeup. Shoot, my workout was only 30 minutes, but I maxed my time out there to a good 2 hours.
When I walked out of there, I felt badly about myself because I was still overweight, but I felt better because at least I had my hair and makeup done for when my husband came home -- well, in theory that was true, but if this all occurred in the morning, everything would have gone to heck by the time he saw me 7 hours later. Nonetheless, I was motivated to keep going.
After I had lost nearly 20 pounds, I had to find more motivation. I was still overweight, but I couldn't stand sharing my husband's t-shirts anymore, and the maternity pants needed to go. I went to buy a more fitted shirt for my workouts at the thrift store. I wasn't about to spend more than $1 on a lousy top, when I was only going to get it sweaty and stinky in a matter of minutes. So, as I perused the $1 rack, I found a size Sm, and I decided to just go ahead and get it, even if it was a bit snug.
I didn't know then that I had just bought the t-shirt that has changed my life. It has a hot pink "Little Miss Bad" character from Hargreaves' "Little Miss" collection, most often known for "Little Miss Sunshine". I tried it on at home, and yes, it was snug, but the first day I wore it to the gym I told myself, "I can be bad." Not naughty-bad, but "badass"-bad. Okay, I don't curse often, if at all, but "badass" is a term that I am going to proclaim as slang, not cursing. It originated in the 1960's, and it means to be excellent or tough. I claimed that for myself that day, and henceforth I am "Little Mrs. Bad".
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