No One Could Have Told Me

No one could have told 20 year old me, that the next 20 years were going to fly by. 

No one could have told 15 year old me, that when I started running, I would never, ever stop being a runner. Or that I would be a beginner several times over the years. 

No one could have told 17 year old me, that I would not, in fact, end up becoming a Marine Biologist living on the West Coast. 

No one could have told 18 year old me, that I would begin an undergrad degree that would take me so many places. 

No one could have told 22 year old me, that moving out of province would be so empowering, and yet so challenging, or life-changing. 

No one could have told 23 year old me, that I would need to suffer a crippling heartbreak, in order to meet my big love.

No one could have told 25 year old me, that the boy I would meet on the internet was going to evolve into one of the greatest men I'd ever know. 

No one could have told 27 year old me, that I could absolutely have a baby, and she would become a person I adore. And she would have two younger siblings. 

No one could have told me, that on my 40th birthday, I would spend the day running up and down 200+ stairs with some of my closest friends and family.

No one could have told me, that at 40, I would find so much pleasure in the truly mundane. 

No one could have told me, that being at home, with my own fivesome, would be my favorite thing to do. 

June 27th (the day before my birthday, actually - because my birthday was a Monday), I woke up early. 630am. I got dressed and packed snacks and water, and headed to the river valley stairs in Devon. I was set on completing 40 sets of the 200+ stairs. My Dad came for the 7am start, and to my absolute amazement, I was also met by many friends - and a surprise countdown poster, complete with sticker stars for each set, and decorations in the forest!  It felt like I was meant to be there, at that moment. Many friends would join me for several sets - many friends even completed more sets than they'd ever done! Their children came, and blew me away with their tenacity. It genuinely felt like an analogy for our lives - some people come, stay for a little while, and then leave. Some stay longer. And each person who is there, is there to support you, the best way they can. It was one of the best days I'd had - as we were already over a year into the Covid pandemic. 

I have known so many incredible humans. Some have even stayed for the long haul - in spite of my fierce introvertedness and desire to stay home, rather than venture out. I take a lot of pride in the fact that I have cultivated a group of people who support me and my little herd, because I don't have a lot of friends. The ones I work hard to keep, are so worth it. And I often have a desire to connect my friends because they are all so tremendous.

It took me around 3 hours to complete all 40 sets of stairs, and I actually felt quite good in the following days. 

I think part of aging is growth, and something I'm quite proud to have learned, is pacing. 

Goals do not need to have an end. I know many coaches will profess that "good" goals have end dates, but there aren't rules. You can do what you want. Life isn't a sprint, it's a marathon, and having completed two marathons, I can tell you this is a great comparison.

During both of my marathons, I contemplated every life choice I'd made to get me there.

Truly.

During the Florida marathon, I had blisters on top of blisters from the humidity.  I was dehydrated and under fueled, and was digging so deep for strength I wasn't sure was there.

It was.  It still is, and when the time comes again for me to find that kind of strength, it will be there.

No one could have told me, that I would be a two time marathon finisher - and both would be completed after I'd become a Mom.

I would sometimes complete a set of stairs, and it would be #14, or #27 and I would try to think about something that had happened when I was 14, or 27. I couldn't always think of something. Guilt. Why haven't I done enough that I can recall even one thing from each year? Except I have done enough. That's part of the pacing. What makes me amazing, isn't one thing a year. It might be that some years were jam packed with cool memories, and others were defined by crushing blows. And each encounter had to happen, in order for me to end up here. Something else I've learned is that I do not have a clue what tomorrow holds. Or next year. Or 10 years from now. We've heard it our whole lives - all we have is now. And it doesn't make much sense, and sounds a bit flouf-y, but one day, it DOES make sense. You get it. You're 40. 

When I look back on my grown up life, I've completed so many items off of a bucket list that I made up as I went. I'm made goals on the spot, and sometimes smashed those, and sometimes had to readjust, or just let them go.

No one could have told me, that there would be some years where I did not like being married. But that my life partner would work with me, and together we would have hard conversations, and come out better - as individuals who are choosing to stay married.

No one could have told me, that I would have three gorgeous children who I love more than I ever thought possible, but who do not define me.

No one could have told me, that I would reinvent myself 1000s of times over the 20 years between 20 and 40.

No one could have told me, that I'm not a clean freak, but that I enjoy a tidy house.

No one could have told me, that I would stop getting several speeding tickets every year.

No one could have told me, that one of my favorite outings would be to Costco. (You can relate, I'm sure!)

No one could have told me, that I would realize that people who are older/younger than me are not better/worse than me. We're all learning.

No one could have told me, that we would live through one of the longest and deadliest pandemics the world has ever seen.

No one could have told me, that even though I knew what my life would be like, it would actually be nothing like I'd imagined, but so much better.

No one could have told me, that during the years my kids were babies, we would get so little sleep. I have a hard time remembering them little and wish I'd taken more videos.

No one could have told me, that our neighbors would be our best friends and that even during the dark days of the pandemic, they would make me laugh harder than I've ever laughed before.

No one could have told me that my two best girlfriends would be decades apart in age, and walk completely different life paths, yet we keep each other afloat sharing funny memes and tik toks.  (What a time to be alive, is right?!)

No one could have told me, during any of the stages of my life, how things would turn out. I thought I had it figured out. I'm not a type A person, or a planner of any sort, but I still sometimes find myself looking back on the years, thinking, "Well would you look at that?! It didn't go the way I thought it would at all, yet we're still at this great place?" 

I think it's part of growing up, that we should have a plan of sorts - we're told that from a young age - that we should know what we'd like to do with our lives.

That's a load of garbage, and I hope our children can know that their life path can have a million forks - but what matters, is that they are good, kind people. Funny would be great too, but we'll see how they turn out. Lol!

I've spent a lot of time not writing, because, honestly, I've been in the depths of depression. That's part of life, and I know that now. I'm also realizing that I'm not great at taking pictures, but I'm pretty good with words, so if the legacy I can leave for my kids is words on the internet, then something on the screen is better than nothing on the screen. And that's the kind of energy I'm taking into 2022... Something is better than nothing.

But What About YOU

I'm tired.  And sad.  And I don't want to just feel this way anymore.
I want to try to make things better for my generation, and my kids' generation.

Are you sad and tired, too?

But what about ME?!?!?!

This.  This is what I've had enough of.  I feel like it has become something of an epidemic.  What.  About.  Me.

How about if instead each and every one of us asked, what about YOU??

We are so busy worrying about ourselves.  My feelings are hurt.  I didn't get my way.  That car cut me off.  The line I chose is always the slowest. And really this list could go on and on and on...

I tell my children all the time - it's nice, to be nice.  That's it.  They are young, and so like most children, they are very self absorbed, BUT, I assumed that in maturing, they will outgrow this selfish mentality.

I have learned that most of us, in some capacity or environment, or another, have a hard time with this.

I know that not everyone likes me.  I am fine with this.  I don't care.  I live a good life, a kind life, and I do the best I can in my current situations - which sometimes means I am short tempered, but I try to be very cautious and careful when I know kindness might not come easily.

I try very hard, every day, to just be nice.

I try to have patience, and seek to understand.  Simple things, that frequently make my days good, even when they could easily have fallen to shit.

It costs nothing, and it takes nothing from you, to be a good person.  To make the right choices, especially when they're hard choices to make.

If we could take a step back, and see that a "What about YOU?" movement could change the world, one day at a time, maybe it would be easier to start it.

I don't know how to persuade people to be kinder to one another, but I know that I've had enough, and that I'd like for the world to be softer for myself, and my children. That's all I'd like. A softer world.

Once Upon a Time

Five years ago, during the month of December, I was in peak training for the Goofy race in Florida.
I was running 80+km a week during those weeks.


I was also doing some cross training, and yoga, and I ran those races with no injuries whatsoever.


Then, I just kinda', quit.


Last year at this time, I signed on to join a relay team to run the Sinister 7 race in the Crowsnest Pass.
I didn't train any where NEAR what I've trained in the past because this was a trail race, and is a totally different beast from a road race.
Everyone referred to me as a "roadie", because my previous running experiences were on pavement.
Trail is so different from road, that it's the same as the difference between swimming and football.


Anyways, I ran my leg of Sin 7.  And it was not the kind of performance I'm used to.  I did it, but there wasn't as much running as I'd hoped, and it was mentally the most challenging race I'd ever done.  But I also didn't come out of that race with a solid resolve to get back to running.  I just didn't.


I've had lingering injuries - one, an achilles injury, the other, an ankle injury that's over 9 years old.  And because I don't run pain-free, I've been nervous.  Apprehensive.
I've wanted to get back into my runners, but it's been a busy year.  It's been an exceptionally challenging year.


Y'know when people start posting memes about how the current year can beat it?  I always see these pictures, and laugh, and even during my worst years, and believe me, this year wasn't especially kind to us, I think to myself, but the whole year wasn't a total bust.  Just some select parts.


Well, loads of the past year have been pretty bunk….
And I have had some low, low periods.  And on Sunday, I just felt overwhelmingly grateful, and had more energy and stamina than I'd had all year long.  And even though I've been working full time since May, and have felt sorry for myself that I've had to do so, I felt grateful that I've been able to spend almost every single Sunday with my family since May.


Monday came, and because it's the last Monday before my family has two weeks off, it wasn't such a bad day.  And I got home from work and picked up the mail and there was a TON of mail for my oldest gal.  It had been her 10th birthday, recently.  Which is totally crazy, in and of itself.  She had some birthday cards, a couple of Christmas cards, and the always recognizable reply from Santa...


She'd written a lengthy letter to Santa, and on her own, had mailed it to the North Pole in early November.
I wasn't expecting a reply because she'd sent it so early.  Yet, here was a letter, from the big guy himself, and it was full of pure magic.


Our family dog passed away this summer.  Of all of the unfortunate events we've endured this year, by far this was the hardest.  And Audrey has taken it very, very hard.  There have been many tears, and many memories and in early November, she asked Santa to bring her dog back.


This letter had the regular reply from Santa, and then there was a whole additional page, where he addressed her wish.  He told her about how Maverick wasn't in pain anymore, and enclosed a picture of the rainbow bridge.  There was a package of sunflower seeds, and instructions to plant them in Mavericks memory, and to plant some every year so she can think of him each time she plants them.


I read it with her, and she and I had a tight hug and some tears.  I had an ugly cry.  This letter reaffirmed for me that even though lots of things didn't go how I might've liked them to go, there is still so much good to come out of 2019.


And then I laced up my runners.


I miss running.  Something fierce.
I've been wearing the runners that carried me 16.7km in the climbs and descents of Sinister 7 as going-around-town shoes, and rather than continue to disrespect them like that for one more day, I laced them onto my feet to take them for a run.
And we ran.  Slowly.  For 6.5km.  I took a few more short breaks than I normally do, but I felt very much like I'd rekindled my relationship with running.


Those old injuries awoke, and reminded me they were there, but like my favorite physiotherapist will say, stress to progress - and so those almost 40 year old ankles of mine gently spoke to me - "be careful", but never became anything more than that.


Once upon a time I was a runner.
But actually, I will always be a runner.
I was born a runner.
I was born on the exact same day Terry Fox passed away.  And I think it was put in my heart on that day, and not coincidentally.

Measuring Success

I've been thinking about a post for sometime now, but I really had no idea how it would come together.  See, the bottom line is, I've put on weight since my photo shoot a year ago.

And that's OK.

Here's why:

Post photo shoot my coach and I were planning to have me reverse diet - adding calories back into my days until we found a sustainable number.  It just so happened that this was happening during the Crossfit Open - so you can imagine that I was pleased with my results, while competing with a lean body, AND eating extra calories!  I was on FIRE!  Reversing is absolutely, and without a doubt, much harder than dieting.  Dieting is simply math and on some days, discipline.  That's it.  Reversing, and following that, maintaining, is seriously hard.

Losing weight is addicting.  People will be commenting on how great you look, you are going to notice more energy, your clothes fit better, and for me, some of the movements at the gym became easier.  It.  Is.  ADDICTING!

So I followed the plan quite well - I am a people-pleaser, after all - and then in the Fall I noticed that my energy was in the absolute toilet.  After a visit to my doctor and some blood work, we found that my TSH levels were elevated, which meant my thyroid was sluggish - and so was my metabolism.  Adjusted my medicine, and within a month my lab values had swung hard the other way.  Too hard.

I was, and still am, frustrated.  I'm frustrated that my body could betray me like that.  I worked so hard to create this body, and then sooooooo hard to maintain it, and ultimately, it was working against me.

One step forward, two steps back.

A younger version of me would already be shopping for bigger clothes and be well on the way to gaining 50lbs.

But not this time.

I have gained.  My clothes fit, at least most of them, but they're not as comfortable as I like, so I'm doing something about it.  I bought myself a journal.  I carefully wrote out some short term and long term goals, and then I further broke them down into some goals for this coming week.

The thing is, if you have managed to lose weight, that is not the end of the journey.  It is a forever kinda' thing.  You will learn tricks and tools and techniques, and if you just continue to adapt them, and know yourself, you WILL be successful.  You will.

But you need to have patience, and you need to be kind to yourself.

When I was thinking about writing this one, I couldn't help but consider, what if I was 50lbs heavier?  It's not unheard of for someone to put on that kind of weight in a year.  Trust me.  Would I still be kind to myself?  Would I still have this attitude?  Would it be OK?

Of course it would.

I cannot give up on myself, and I've decided that I can measure my success any damn way I want to, so I think that not giving up on myself is HUGELY successful.  I can reach for some of the tools I've learned, and put them into action, and just as any time before, the results will follow.

I have also learned that gaining weight is not failure.  This time around the extra pounds came as a result of a thyroid malfunction, however in past they have come as a result of challenging life circumstances or mental illness, and truth be told, I really feel like any reason is a valid one.  Perhaps you stopped caring so much about yourself - but it's because you were too busy caring about someone else.  Still a valid reason.  Sometimes we need to let ourselves go a little, so we can reach for someone, or something else.  Just don't stay there. 

The point is, though, that you find yourself recognizing that the place you're at is NOT where you want to be.  For many people, they may not have the tools to help themselves.

This is where a nutrition coach will be invaluable.  Would you like to learn the tools?  Would you like some assistance as you gain your footing?  Are you going to need support?  A nutrition coach can help you with all of these things - and then some - because if you decide to let go of your coach one day, it's OK to periodically need help again!  It's OK!  She will be there, with some more of those tools, and perhaps some new ones, and you will not be judged in any way.  That's not helpful, and it's not how she rolls.

I'm leaving the link to the absolute greatest nutrition coach, and I encourage you to reach out to her and see the value in yourself.  You are worth the investment!

https://motivateandbfit.com/

I am considering myself a success.  I just am.  And I've already planned for the week ahead, and I'm looking forward to celebrating the positive outcomes with a little bit of shopping!

Kids & Fitness. Like, Together.

One hour.
One hour is how long my workouts are.
Give or take five minutes, but one hour is not long.
Many, MANY times I've got two or three kids with me.
They often hang out in the kids area, eating snacks and watching Netflix and occasionally screaming or shouting at one another, or me.
I consider it a GIGANTIC perk at my gym, to be able to bring them any old time I might need to.
No charge.

Sometimes they derail my workouts.  Sometimes they require my attention at an inopportune time and I have to sacrifice some or all of my workout to tend to them.  Sometimes I ask for the music to be turned up, please, so that I don't have to hear them.  They've even tried to make a mad dash out the door. Life happens, kids are busy and dependent and that's OK.  I don't beat myself up over missed workouts anymore.  Take an unscheduled rest day and move on.

Always, my expectations are low, and although I'm doing my best to make sure they're not being a nuisance, I'm quite certain they are.

My oldest daughter has been making comments lately about my body.  She tells me she likes my stretch marks, my saggy areas.  She tells me my big arms are extra good at hugging.

We have always, always practiced body positivity in our house.  It has been important to me since, well, always, that we enforce that it's not OK to talk about other peoples' bodies in a negative way, and personally, I kinda' think that we should just maybe not talk about bodies.  Unless we're talking about our own, and how awesome they are, and what they're able to DO, but maybe we just, not, talk about how they look.

I was bullied as a child about my body.  I was bullied badly.  It sticks with me still, and I'll be damned if any of my kids is a bully, or is a victim of bullying, so not only do we not criticize our own bodies, but we make a point of celebrating what we are capable of, rather than what we look like.  We're supposed to work out so our bodies' look a certain way, right?  I've certainly trained for a look myself, but truthfully, I'll never give up on other goals.  I would like a 200+ back squat.  I would like to do butterfly pull ups.  I want to be able to kip those damn toes to bar, and I would like to just generally be a better athlete.  The looks part is really a secondary goal to all the other stuff.  I won't sacrifice training for any look.  Ever.

With two daughters who are growing up in what I would consider the most body conscious era ever, thanks to social media, and filters, and I am fighting harder to show them that everyone is different, and has different strengths, but ultimately, we do not talk about how bodies' look.

My youngest will be starting kindergarten in the Fall, and though I have daydreamed of this day for years - when I will be alone at the 9am class EVERY time I go, I will also miss taking him with me.  He has seen his Mom be the most consistent, simply because he has never known a pregnant Mom, and lemme tell you, I definitely created a weight loss battle for myself while preggers!

All 3 of my kids have never known anything other than a Mom who works out.  It is very, very important to me, mostly because the change in my mental health is tangible, but also because I like being fit enough to still carry my 65lb babes, two stories, to their beds, when they've fallen asleep downstairs.

Our goals as parents is to raise good, kind human beings.  If I can instill in them that taking care of their bodies' isn't an option, but something they should enjoy doing, then I feel like I will have assisted them in "leveling up".  Be nice.  And also lift some heavy shit.  And hopefully one day, we will lift heavy shit as a family.  And run races together.  This is my true dream.  💗💗

The Big Buy In

I took my kids to Candle Lake, Saskatchewan this summer.

This place is truly magical.  Like, as soon as we're driving down the short stretch to my Grandma's cabin, I am warm, and filled with excitement, and I love so much that I get to share this little gem of a place with my family.

I felt so grateful, and content on that trip.  As if, of all the places we could be in the whole world, it was there that we were meant to be. I don't often feel like that.  I'm often driving kids here and there and everywhere and getting groceries for the 14th time in 5 days, and there are loads of mundane tasks I do that do not make me feel quite so grateful, but, during that week, I just felt, joy.

I don't live a perfect life.  There's lots of stress on my shoulders, and I have to wade through the same stank as everyone else, but in general, and most of the time, I am happy, and I work really hard for the life I live, and I work really hard to feel the way I do.  Joy is not effortless.

I spend a fair amount of time and money maintaining my wellness.  I have never, over the 20 years I've been doing this, felt one ounce of regret over this.  Not one.

I'm coming up to 40, and my views are changing, on life.  Things can change in a hot damn minute, and your kick at the can is over, and you never got a chance to debate it with the Big Guy upstairs.  It's real, and it's there, and if I don't take care of my body, my kick could be cut short, and there's a whole lot more livin' I'd like to do.

I don't mean to go down a dark path, but this is reality, and in my line of work, I see a lot of folks who are floating through their lives, waiting.  Waiting for things to get better, for something to change, for the healthcare system to heal them.  Waiting.

Aside from a period of depression I muddled through in my 20s, I can say, with certainty, that I have been a decisive captain, and held the steering wheel and guided myself to where I am.  I have done the work.  I have made things happen, and I choose to be happy with what I have, and I love the life I lead.  I have bought in BIG.  I am buying into the BIGGEST gamble.  My own life.

I am invested, and I feel like if more people were content with themselves, there might be less negativity- just in general.  Health is something that each one of us has the power to change, to improve.  My parents have joined the gym I go to, and although my Mom will say that it's not somewhere she thinks she'll ever be excited to go to, she keeps showing up.  Buying in.  Making the investment in herself.

It is NEVER too late.  Ever.  Until your can is flying through the air, you have a choice, and a chance to buy in.  The stakes are high, and it's your life on the line.  Your quality of life.

Perpetually Self-Fulfilling

Having been heavy for much of my life, and in most recent years, taken much of that off, I can tell you that it never gets old when people mention that you're looking great/fit/healthy/lean.

Ne.  Ver.

I got to my goal, I felt great, I maintained for a time, and for the most part, I am still maintaining.

Hooooooooooowever...
The weight that I feel best at, and that my clothes look best at, is less than I currently sit.  And I have been working hard to find my resolve to get to the comfortable place.

And I couldn't.  And I am well aware that motivation is bullsh*t, and consistency is where it's at, but I just could not find that.

Losing weight is the hardest friggin' thing in the world, because the reason any of us has extra poundage, is usually because we have excess baggage we've been scared to unpack.
Being truthful with yourself and working through the hard stuff is why losing weight, and keeping it off, are so damn difficult.

I had to be honest with myself recently, and admit that I really, really love the weight loss part, but I'm not a huge fan of the maintenance part.  But, why?  The why is because I like the attention while I'm transforming.  I love it, actually.  But then you aren't losing anymore and you just, look like this now, and no one notices and the world keeps turning.  I have felt so successful and fulfilled during weight loss, and I feel as though I drift up in weight, simply to so I can go back to being a "loser", and receiving those compliments.

That's hard.  And superficial.  And narcissistic.  Ugh.

So, I've acknowledged what I think my current issue is, and in order to get to the doing-of-the-work, I am making a plan.  And I am making goals.  And I am going to find something new to feel defined by.  This body is the only one I've got, and I really respect it too much to continue to yo-yo for the rest of my life because of my addiction to the transformation.  This body deserves better.  And really, the pull ups are getting a little tougher...

Why Me?!?!

I am absolutely subject to this myself, but I am a believer that half the battle is in the recognition of the problem.

This?
The "Why Me?!?!", mentality.

Why is losing weight so hard for ME?  And not for others.
I get really stuck in the "not fair" zone.

It's not fair that I will have to be so deliberate with my food choices for the rest of my life.
SO, unfair, in fact, that to hell with it, and I am just going to eat whatever the hell I damn well please.

For one day.  Or maybe a couple weeks.
And during that time I will feel.  Like.  Crap.

It is only when I can be grateful and content with my choices, that I stop feeling sorry for myself.  When I realize that my choices allow me to live in a body I am in love with.  That I did not say no to the donut, or french fries, or glass of wine as a form of punishment or deprivation, but rather because my goals were bigger, in that moment, than the offer.

I say, in that moment, because sometimes those goals can become quite small in my rear view mirror, and I forget where I'm going.  I find it remarkably easy to fall back into old thought patterns.  Where I'm winning the big battle, however, is in that my old behaviours don't follow.  I am able to stop myself before I'm 6 donuts deep, and not a clue where the previous 5 donuts went, or even how they tasted.  This is resolve I've never known, and it's taken a lot of work, and I am so damn proud of myself for being able to rise above my comfortable, familiar coping mechanisms.  It requires a constant reminder of my purpose.  Even though this purpose isn't finite at the moment.  There is no date, or end goal.  This is just my life, and how I am living it.  And it is messy, and hard, and I am not always happy with my food choices, but I am more kind to myself over these decisions, and I do not throw in the towel for the day, or week, or month.  I just don't give up, because I know that it's not a race.

My thyroid is waaaaaaay outta' whack right now and as a result, my metabolism is in the gutter.  I've got around 7 unaccounted for lbs that are directly related to this problem and it is my #1 priority right now to sort this issue out.  Again, I am refraining from feeling sorry for myself, because I am choosing to be grateful that of all the health ailments one can be afflicted with, mine is relatively easy to sort out, though there is quite a lot of patience required to wait for my body to adapt to new dosages.  I am working with my most favoritest nutrition gal, and I have new goals, and visions and I'm just continuing on my path, sorting out my shit along the way...no pity party's here!

Run for Your Life

When I began writing this blog, I felt defined by running, and, newly, by being a Mom.
(It was over 7 years ago that I started this blog - which is incredible that I've stuck to any one thing for that long!)

Y'know, you can't really know what will happen in your life.
At 20, you think you have it figured out.  Your life is planned and plotted, and it will go just as such.
We have these ideas of how we'd like it to go, but it is not going to go that way, darling, I assure you.
Your life will be beautiful, though.

Muddling through the disparity of what we think, and what is, is like the human common denominator.  Everyone sorts through this in their own way, and for me, it has always been running.

Running is, and always will be, my happy place.  The time I spend with myself.  The moments I have found the most clarity.  The lyrics I've heard that have brought me to tears, or to a good hard sprint.
I feel like running has been the railroad tracks that keep me from careening off into the abyss.  And lemme' tell 'ya, most people would agree that I am a bit of a flaming hot mess, so this is a lot of load for simple ol' running to bear!

For a long. long time I was always training.  I would do a race, or two or sometimes 5 or 6, and my year would be planned, based on racing.  I would spend months training, always with long runs on Sunday mornings.  Carb loading on Saturday night was one of my favorite things in the whole world.  Such good memories of carbs...

Only running wasn't good for me, though.  I do not have a naturally slender body, which means my heaveier bod was hitting the pavement, literally, with each step, and I incurred injuries.  There have been several, generally minor and requiring a short jaunt in physio, but then I'd be back to the streets, sometimes with a slightly different gait.  I will always be a runner.  I feel strongly that it's something of a life skill.  I am so excited to share this gift with my kids!  Running keeps me healthy and fit, doesn't take much time, and doesn't require much equipment or space.  It's also super for mental health.  I have spent a few hours in a psychologists office, but I've spent many more hours running, and both have had their benefit in helping me find my way through this life.

During the training for my last big race, the goofy race,  I added weight training, and a fair amount of it, and I was not only able to more easily endure the long runs, but I had speedy recoveries, too.  I realize that lifting weights has a ton of health benefits, but I think that it's still a fairly new notion for a lot of the crowd.  What I can tell you, from experience, is that in all my years of running, which is 22 years, to be exact, I have never maintained my weight with such ease, as while I have been a lifter.  And that is just the honest truth.  More muscle = more calorie burning.  It's science, yo.

Where does running fit into saving my life?  Well, when I was 15, our family got a puppy.  A lab retriever cross.  Belle.  Over the first summer she lived with us, it became quickly apparent that she was going to require a LOT of exercise.  Being a lazy teenager, I decided to start running with her, because we could cover the same distance, with much less time.  It was also that summer that I started to deal with a past trauma that my brain had packaged up, tightly, as a form of self protection.  At first, I remembered it like I was in a cloud, above, and then, figured out that I was, in fact, watching myself.  I also learned that when I was younger, and gaining weight at an alarming rate, that in the simplistic mind of a child, making your appearance less appealing is another form of self protection.  Much of this came to light during that summer and for a few years following.  I ran through it all, and I leaned heavily on that big golden dog, as well.

I've laced up my shoes to help myself deal with breakups, with deaths, with the feelings that have come along with my physique changing (trust me, this is a whole bag I had no idea I'd opened!) and with the big emotions I have felt as a Mom, I have always known that I will be sharper, after 5km.

I have never found myself in the deep, dark places that I know many are familiar with, however I feel like I can safely say that I could easily have ended up there.  I have no idea what sorts of divine intervention have been in place for me, but someone, somewhere had me consider that running the dog would be just faster than walking, and the rest is some serious history!

I don't think it's a coincidence that I was born on the very day that the Canadian hero, Terry Fox, passed away.

Disney on a (Canadian) Dime

Today is Father's Day.
My intention today is to share some mo-nay saving tips for family holidays - specifically in Disneyland, but I wouldn't feel right posting this frivolous business before taking a minute to acknowledge the fantastic amigos in our lives.

There are four fellas in our lives who are making a tremendous difference in our kids' lives.
My brother, Garth.
My father in law, Keith.
My Dad, Murray.
And my husband, life partner, and baby Daddy, Blake.

In my life, I have never known anything but a positive, and truly, reliable, male influence.
I never doubted that my Dad would be there.  That my Uncle Matthew, 6 houses down, or my Grandpa, one block over, would be there.
They just always, were.

I realize now that this isn't always the case and it breaks my heart a little bit.  These guys have exemplified feminism before I even knew what this was.  Encouraging the women in our family with a quiet pride, so that we would always think that we could be, or do, anything.

I knew what I valued in a husband before I ever met Blake, because of all of the Dads who'd been part of the village who raised me.  He checked the boxes.  I wasn't sure children would be in the cards we were dealt.  They were.  And he is the most amazing Dad to the three kids at our house.

Happy Father's Day, guys!

OK, so I want to share a few things about our Disneyland trip that saved us MEGA bucks.  Like, mega.

Numero, Uno.
Book.  In.  Advance.  (If you can.)
We booked our trip almost a year in advance.  Through a travel agent.  (I will refer to her at the end).  This allowed us to pay off our trip when we had some extra dough.  I personally don't have $5G in an account to spend on a holiday - or else I'd be on one right now!  So, we paid when we could, and don't owe a darn thing now that we're home!

#2.
Book a hotel with a kitchen.  This was really key for us.  We are a family of 5.  That's a LOT of food.  It is 2018.  Groceries can be delivered right to your hotel.  We did this twice.  In 7 days.  Family of 5 = LOTS of eating.  Like, lots.  Snacks on snacks on snacks...and ice cream, and chips, and...we packed our lunches for the parks.  I'm quite sure packing our own lunches and snacks saved around $500 alone.  We also never wasted any time waiting in very, very long lines waiting for things like hot dogs.  Don't get me wrong, we ate snacks at the park, but the requirement was that it needed to be something special.  Anything shaped like Mickey was an automatic yes.  We also brought our own stainless steel water bottles.  Filled with ice, we just need to find a water fountain to top up and had ice cold water all day.  Lemme' tell ya?  A thirsty kid is a real bear, and to have to wait in line for a $3(USD, remember!) bottle of water would have been horrible!

#3
Book your park tickets during the Canadian citizen special.  It's been going on for a few years, and usually comes out around February, so hopefully they have this promotion in the future.  You will save 25% on your tickets - which is basically exchange, so that helps a lot!

D)
Book a hotel that is very close to the park, or close to a Disney parking lot.  We never spent a dime on travel.  Our hotel was saddled up right next to the Toy Story parking lot, so with a short 5 min walk we jumped right onto a bus and were dropped off in front of the parks.  20 min door to door and saved our feet!

4.
I was very, very careful to choose the hotel we did as it had full breakfast and ALSO had, what was advertised as, a "happy hour".  Every morning, as early as 630, if we so chose, we ate a good breakfast.  Eggs, waffles, sausage, cereal, toast - lots of options!  Then, Monday through Thursday, we made sure while we were taking our break at the hotel from the crowds at the park, we grabbed this "light dinner" to eat by the pool.  The evening food was plenty enough to feed our whole family.  Burgers, soup, salads, crackers and cheese and fruit, and each night had a theme so there was loads of variety.  FA-REE, YA'LL!!  Free food is where we did most of our cost savings, truth be told.  Also, it's much easier to make wiser choices when there's salads up in yo' face!  Friday, and Sunday, we also ate dinner at the hotel.  There were BBQ's by the pool so we just ordered groceries to BBQ and ate by the pool while the kids swam!  We went for one dinner and one lunch.  That was it.

Last one, I swear!
Give your children a pre-loaded Disney card.  Only for them, and one for each of them.  You want that little trinket/piece of trash/memorabilia?  Better get your card out!  Once it was used up, that was it.  Do not ask me for more money, you had lots.  I found the kids were pretty good once they realized the limitation of the card.  Not much whining, which is not normal for this crew!  We also asked for Disney gift cards over the holidays leading up to our trip, so we went into our trip with several hundred dollars to spend at the park on Mickey-shaped ice cream and such.

If you are planning a trip to the most magical place on earth (it is NOT, I repeat, NOT, the happiest place on earth), then I highly recommend the Homewood Suites (link below).  The staff are phenomenal, and it was reasonably priced, and all of the other reasons as mentioned above.  I also recommend using Sue Faraschuk, from Discover with Sue.  She was awesome to work with and could totally handle my hot-mess-ness!  Let me know if you have any other cost-saving tips!

http://homewoodsuites3.hilton.com/en/hotels/california/homewood-suites-by-hilton-anaheim-resort-convention-center-ANADLHW/index.html

Let's Talk About Stress, Baby...

Is anybody else so fa-reakin' ready for summer?!?!
I'm in need of a break from school, and volunteering, and making lunches, and snacks and lunches, and snacks...

Stress in our lives?
Unavoidable.

Dealing and diffusing stress?
Necessary.

If I didn't have outlets and tools to help me deal, I would be a puddle of tears.  And also morbidly obese.
I'm a cry-er.
I'm also an eat-er

Going back to the end of 2016, and there I was; I'd gained around 15 pounds, and I considered that a success.
In past years, with much less stress, I've managed to pack on 40 pounds or more, and in only six months.

So along with being an eat-er, I'm an easy gain-er.

January is the mental health month.  We end the month with an entire day to bring mental wellness to the spotlight.
I know that the dark veil that drapes over mental health is slowly lifting, but it still hangs.
I take my own health seriously, and I consider the wellness of my brain to be the most important of all.

Exercising and eating well play HUGE roles in my mental health and I notice big time when I'm neglecting my body because I get snappy and short tempered and I just feel angry a lot of the time, however, sometimes exercise isn't enough, and medication is required.  Sometimes short term, but sometimes long term.  And that's OK.

I know when I need a little bit of extra help when I'm doing everything I can to stay healthy, and I still feel like I cannot stay afloat.
When I feel like I'm riding a roller coaster I don't really want to be on, and it's on fire, and there's no place to get on or off.
And I'm alone.

I have no problem at all spending money to talk to someone who is well trained in how to help me work through one of life's sticky spots.  I also have no problem letting my doctor know that I could use some help, and getting myself on some meds.
Similar to spending money on a gym membership, looking after your mental health has got an excellent return.

Raising kids and being married are the hardest things I've ever done in my life.
Everyone tells you it's hard, but this sh*t is freakin' hard!

Divorce is starting to happen to people I know and love.
We went through it in our family once, but the gal was never really part of our family, so it was hard, but not devastating.  It felt more like "good riddance!", than the kind of mourning that other divorces can feel like.

I get it.  Life is stressful.  As Mothers, especially, we get the worst behavior and we are treated poorly, and we will still get the dishes and laundry and lunches and snacks made, through it all.

My biggle spent the night at Grandpa and Grandmas, and it is truly like a little gift because we have two children, and the cousins are here, and no one is fighting!
It's these little breaks that can honestly save me from crumbling.

I read an article today about the trials of parenting.
In short, it talked about how hard it is, but that sometimes we don't need the positive reflexive responses to our whining that feels as though we're being patted on the head.
"There, there.  This too shall pass.  We've all been there.  This is just a part of motherhood."

Except when I'm cleaning up spilled cereal while yelling at one child to get socks on, and the other to get the h*ll out the door before she misses the bus, and it's 7:58, and I haven't eaten, or brushed my teeth or packed snacks for preschool, and it is not, in fact, passing.

This article talked about how it's nice to sometimes have someone say, "parenting can be downright awful and sh*tty and the most stressful thing you'll ever experience, and how can I help you?".  The End.  No short, positive disclaimer about how worthwhile it is.  Just an acceptance of your grief, at that particular sh*tty moment in time, and potentially, an offer for a life preserver.

Mom's need each other.  We need our village.  We need our families.  We need help.
Need.  Not want.  Like, it isn't optional.  We need a network of support, or we will fail, ourselves. The thing is, though, that we would sacrifice ourselves for our family because we would hold them up above the waves, drowning, if we had to.  #motherhood

Zest for Life

I'm not the kind of person who has ever, not even once, forgotten to eat.
I just don't.

In fact, I'm usually looking forward to what I'm eating for the next meal, while I'm eating.
I know that for a lot of people, eating is just something necessary, food is fuel, (mmmmm'kay...), but for me, and I think for a fair number of us, food is a 'UGE part of life.

What have I learned?
I  must have something to look forward to every day.
If I plan and prep my food, and for three days I dread eating that food?  Then usually after those three days I've got to plan some junk, or else I will binge.  However, if I prep food that I am excited to get into every day?  I do not, even a bit, feel deprived, or like I'm missing out on anything, and there is no binging, because there is no missing out on my favorite things.

Can someone who does forget to eat, tell me what that's like?  Like, what the hell is going on in your brain that you're not thinking about food?  Should I also be thinking about these interesting things?  Still, having a hard time comprehending how anything could be more interesting than food...

Y'know those shake diets?  Like, just drink this shake twice a day and then try to control your insatiable hunger, just to follow up by preparing a nice, sensible dinner!
Well, we are not dogs and we do not have to eat the same crap several times a day to get to our goals.  Also, opposable thumbs!

I'm sure I've touched on this before, but I cannot stress enough, that the best way for you to achieve and more importantly, maintain your goals, is the plan you can do.  The one you're excited about.  When you don't feel deprived, or have serious FOMO.  I realize it's not a cookie cutter process.  It shouldn't be!  We're all different and our bodies respond different ways to different techniques for transformation!  It's OK!  If you think you want to try a diet, then give'r!  If you hate it?  Stop doing it!  I feel as though much of our failure, or feeling like we've failed, comes from a place where we feel like what we're doing to achieve our goals is unfair.  That's when we say, f*ck it, and just eat whatever we like, because, well, my friend Karen eats what she likes and has never had to battle weight, and I just don't care anymore, so, whatever...And also, we all have a Karen in our lives and she's just a lucky bitch.

Think about the moment you're eating something totally delicious, but you've decided you want to shed a few pounds, and so you know it might not be the wisest choice. Your inner dialogue might go something like this:

This is the last (insert item you are devouring) I am going to have for a LONG time.

This.  Is.  IT.

Ugh.  But this thing is so f*cking good.  SO good.

Better enjoy this.  Not sure when I'll get another (insert item you are devouring)

*Finish eating last tasty morsel

*Immediately regret promising not to eat this item for a long time

*Also immediately want to eat 10 or 12 dozen of these things

I do this.  Totally do this.  And sometimes the entire day goes into the garbage.  Like, I should have been making good choices to reach my goals, but instead I decided to eat that cookie sandwich thingy from Crave (which was seriously delicious, y'guys), and now I have ruined this day so I'll just eat fries and gravy.

Losing weight and keeping it off is hard, guys.  So hard.  I wish I could say that I've nailed it, but I haven't.  I will muddle my way through this forever, knowing that the longer I maintain, the better I'll get at it, and the habits I used to have get left farther behind.  I read a quote the other day that read, "We will spend 95% of our lives trying to be 5% thinner."  I don't wanna do this.  I gots way too much living to do, to be spending so much time dieting.  I will probably think about food in my every waking moment, forever.  I don't think that's a bad thing.  I am just learning that I can eat totally delicious food that is also good for me, and never feel like I am missing out on a damn thing.

*Immediately regret promising yourself you will not devour this tasty morsel

The Open.

I've stared at the cursor for sometime now.

I have things I would like to say about The Open.

There's a chance you haven't a flying clue what The Open is.  If you were to give it a quick google search, you would be flooded with all things Crossfit.

I have never, (and my tune might be changing now), but until this point, I have never considered myself a competitive person.  I just have never cared about how I "rank".  In running, and I would include crossfit, as well, there are solid ways to measure your progress.  Singular.  Just you.  The Open is the way the organization allows everyone to see how they are doing in a competitive, but not intimidating setting.  You are able to see how you have improved from the past years.

I struggle with competition because the result is that one individual wins and another loses.  One is better than the other.  It's hard to lose.  It can be disheartening to learn that someone you've worked really hard to stay on par with, has broken away from your scores, or from your pace, during a race.  Sometimes your gas tank is empty, while theirs seems to be bottomless.  I get it.  I'm not the kind of person who gets worked up over these things, though, so you want to play monopoly with me!  I will be so happy when you win!  Seriously!

What I love best about Crossfit, is that, unless your last name ends in -Dottir, then you're not reeeeeally in the competition.  And what I mean by that, is, that you're not going to win.  This is cool.  This is completely and utterly acceptable for those of us who will never qualify for regionals or compete at THE Crossfit Games.  We have our heroes, and athletes we look up to and get excited to watch on tv, but in the meantime, we'll just be over here, at our gyms, being fitter than the general public and cheering each other on with a fever and intensity that only the Crossfit community knows.

This has been my first year competing.  I go to the gym a lot.  Like, a lot.  I truly love it there.  It is my one hour for myself, for my physical health and most importantly, for my mental health.  I have had two coaches in my life, who have both recently mentioned that I am athlete, and that I should start treating myself as one.  I have never considered myself an athlete.  I am super proud to consider myself a fit person, but in my mind, the title athlete is reserved for the especially fit.  Those dedicated folks who put in deliberate work and eat for performance and take fitness very seriously, and, well, actually, that is me.  And I am, in fact, an athlete.

When I was prepping and doing the Open workouts, I liked to do them as soon as I could, and I preferred to do them alone, or with just a handful of people.  I would read the workout, go over the movement standard to make sure I understood, and then I would do a bit of visualization.  For every single workout I do - running, crossfit, cycling, swimming, whatever, I have a gameplan.  I typically set mini goals, within the workout, and then try to stick to the plan.  I always show up and give everything I have, for that one hour.  I want to leave every effort I have at the gym.  I don't want to leave thinking I could have done better.  When all you have is one hour to commit to your health, quality is number one, because the quantity is set.  There is no do-over.

One of the first workouts I did, coach Brad was my judge.   He said to do just do my best, and I said, like I always do.  The Open workouts were no different from any class I attend, except that I had a judge.  The proof that I don't cheat myself, is in the scores I produced.  And the only person that really matters to, is me.

See, the truth is, I've been training my whole life.  For many years, it was for running races, but for the past 5 years, it's been for Crossfit.  I have been doing the work and making progress and earning the muscle I have.  It's hard.  Sometimes I want to quit.  It's hard for all of us.  Training, and now competing, gives me a sense of confidence.  Like nothing else I've ever done in my life.  As someone who has had more self-doubt than anyone should have in a lifetime, this reassuring confidence is welcome.  It is time that I consider myself an athlete and it is overdue that I treat my body accordingly.

The Open is for everyone.  There is an option for every single person and this competition, like most, is you against you.  I will never win a competition, and this is fine.  I do real work and I reap real rewards and I am an athlete, nonetheless.

Tire Pumping

So, I've been thinking on this for some time, and I've decided to take a bit of a detour from my regularly scheduled blog posts...

My New Years Resolution for the past few years has been to tell people when I'm thinking or have thought something nice about them.

It has been such an awesome "bucket filling" experience.  How often do you see a friend, or even a stranger, and think to yourself that they look good, or happy, or that their hair looks super nice, and that thought does nothing more than float through your brain before you're thinking about something you need to check off on your to do list.

But if we take just a minute or two to maybe go out of our way to actually tell these people what we're thinking, we are pumping some tires that might have badly needed it.

When I receive a compliment, no matter how small, it can often carry me through the day.  Sometimes it puts a giant smile on my face for several hours, and sometimes it can motivate me to make some more healthy choices for the day.  But a little bit of feather fluffing can go a really long way!

We live in a different time.  With a few key strokes, we can give a review for every single place we visited in a day.  Many people do this, and as a busy Mom who often only has a few minutes to screen the internet for the best brow waxer, or burger joint, I appreciate their efforts!

The thing is, we can go to the same restaurant 20 times and have great service, and one time, we may experience an inconvenience, and yet, this will be the time we pipe up.  Sometimes, it's blasted all over a Facebook page.  Sometimes, it's a google or yelp review, or maybe we just tell everyone we know.  But for the 20 positive visits, we said nothing and told no one. We live in a time where we can greatly damage a business, big or small, and we can throw really big sticks and stones to personally attack people, all from behind our computer screens.

It feels so good to tell people how much they mean to you, or what kind of impact they've had on you.  So good.  And it feels fantastic to hear it!  If I am walking with my kids and we pass a group of people who are swearing, or maybe just being bullies, I am sure to say something.  That kind of sh*t bothers me!  (Kidding!  Kinda...), but there have been far too many opportunities pass, where I could have said something kind to someone and I didn't.

I am forever working on this because my brow furrows in resting now, for all of the things that need doing.  I am constantly thinking about what comes next.  And I do notice the nice things and I want to take the time to say something.  I remember the times I have filled buckets.  The book we read to our kids is entirely correct.  When you fill someone else's bucket, you also fill your own.  I am forever talking about not having time, but I truly would like to protect just a few minutes, every day, to fill buckets.  Wouldn't you, too?

The Thing That's Giving.

Somethings gotta' give.

It's not just something we say.

This is real life.

Though you may think you can do it all, I believe that most of us are well aware that you, cannot, in fact, do it all.

Somethings gotta' give.

For me?

It's my car.

Hands down, and without having to consider another option.

It's my car.

(I see you nodding your head wildly Mom...and Nikki...)

My car is an utter disaster.

As in, I can clean it, detail it, wipe down every single surface and crevice and nook, and within 24 hours, there is yogurt sprayed on the ceiling, goldfish crackers all over the floor...crushed.  Tiny bits of garbage and probably 8 pieces of art work will be scattered from the dashboard to the floors, because, obviously, the car is where school projects and garbage go to procreate.

I cannot, and I will not maintain cleanliness, because I'm OK with the "thing" that's giving.
I'm lettin' that shit go.

Can you IMAGINE what else would fail if I happened to start taking care of the car?!?!

It terrifies me to even think about the shift that would cause!  It would be like the butterfly effect!  Castles would crumble!  It could mean that my kids don't get their weekly daily bath, or that there are only two food groups on their plates, or maybe we wouldn't get in their nightly reading, or...(this list is infinite, in case you were waiting for it to end...)

My car.

We spend quite a lot of time in there, and for the record, I would sure like for it to stay clean.  I would.  I do not enjoy that is like a real life wasteland, in an itty bitty space.  I am not a type A personality and it doesn't even bother me how filthy it is, but I really would like to live in a nice clean car sometimes.

The silver lining though?  If you're ever in need of something?  I've definitely got it in there somewhere!  Gimme a minute, and maybe grab a plastic bag so we can throw some of this garbage out while I go look for it, but I KNOW I've got a puke bag/hair tie/nail clippers/safety pins/yellowpages from 1998 in here somewhere...

From There to Here

Had my hair done last weekend.  Lashes put on.  Spray tan the night before, and then hair braided and makeup done the morning of.

So self indulgent.  So self centered.  So narcissistic.  So needed.

I have been working hard for this.  It's been strictly for aesthetics, outer appearances, and though it's not an admirable way to live your life, it has been such an experience to fall in love with myself - and with what my body can do.

A lot of people have been telling me, have told me, that I'm beautiful inside and out.
Wow.  Seriously.  It makes me so emotional, that I have so many kind, thoughtful people in my life who think so much of me.  I am crazy, crazy blessed to live my life with this tribe of supporters.  Crazy.
And I am grateful for every single kind comment, and like and share on all of the social medias, and in real life.  SO grateful.  I have had a giant smile on my face all day!

But there's something I'd like to share.

I distinctly remember going on a trip to Hawaii many years ago with some friends.  I remember vividly that I did not feel I deserved to go on such a nice holiday because I was very large, and I was extremely uncomfortable in my body.

I have felt this discomfort for most of my adult life, and for much of my childhood too, because for the vast majority of my life, I have carried a lot of extra weight.

Shout out to Crossfit Leduc, amiright?!

The thing I want to share is something that one can only know if one has lived in a very large body for any period of time.

When people tell you you're beautiful at any size, you don't disagree.  You don't.  But, when you are living or have lived, as an obese person, it's a whole world that some people cannot comprehend, because when they say they loved you when you were also large, only you can know that you, at some point, didn't, or don't, love yourself, and that all the love in the world, pouring in from every which way, cannot get to you, because you don't feel a drop of it for yourself.

On that Hawaii trip, there are some pictures of me.  I have cleverly disguised my size by wearing baggy clothes, or making sure there were people, or objects blocking my body, or sometimes avoiding the camera altogether.  I was not comfortable, and to this day, it is the strongest memory of that trip for me.  Not feeling comfortable in my body.  Sucky, right?  That a gorgeous trip to Hawaii holds such a lousy memory?

So, the thing is, I feel as though this phenomenal group of people, who have been along this crazy journey called life, and have loved me, unconditionally, forever, might not truly understand how it feels to live obese.

I never doubted that you loved me.  I never doubted that you would be there for me.  I just assumed those things.  But inside myself, I fought a really, really hard battle.  A battle made entirely of inner dialogue, but that dialogue was filled with some of the most horrid, disgusting words.  Words I would never, ever in a million years say out loud.  Words that I hope my daughters never even consider to think.  And that is my why.

I love myself now in a way I could have never fathomed.  I set this goal out for myself, I worked hard, and persevered and thought about quitting every day.  But my why, is those two girls and little boy, who are molding self images, and who have seen their Mom do some incredible sh*t, but who will never know of the internal war I waged on myself for way, way too many years.  I wanted to prove to myself what I was capable of, and although these pictures are stunning and I am eternally grateful that this journey has been captured, I do not take that away from this experience.  What I take away, is a normalized relationship with food and with myself.  That's it.  When I see it written there, just a simple sentence, it seems small.  Trivial.  But the truth is, I have spent a whole lifetime longing for this.  And I've only just realized that I had the power to be in control.  I did.  All along.

From there to here?  It's been the longest road I've ever traveled.  It's not even over.  It never will be.  That's one of the things I've learned.  I know that sometimes people think, "well, I'll just go and do that", when they think about losing weight, but they don't consider that in the 'getting there', you will face some tough sh*t.  You will battle demons and memories and thoughts head on.  No one gains weight simply by eating too much.  Nonononono.  We gain weight because food helps us cope.  Food is easy, and comforting, and always there.  It is on the difficult days, the ones where you are ready to quit and you haven't gotten out of bed, that you will dig deep, and discover the self love you have repressed for so long, and you will get up and grind out that day.  Those are the days that cause the most transformation.

I know that some of this is inspiring.  I am honored, honored to think that even one person could think of me as an inspiration.  And I want you to be inspired.  I do.  So much.  I've been inspired a million times along the way too, in a million different ways.  If I can wish for you, though?  It's that you are inspired to love yourself.  Right now.  Don't wait.  I regret the energy and time I wasted not loving myself, and I wish I'd done it sooner, and I want for you to love yourself now, as you are, because the girl in these pictures?  She was always there, waiting for the self-love

Thank you Brandi, for being, and continuing to be, my tour guide.
www.motivateandbfit.com

And thank you to my dear friend Kelsie for capturing this emotional day!
www.kelsiekellyphoto.com

And BIG thank you to Crossfit Leduc for this facility, coaching and family.  You are some of the greatest people I know, Brad and Annie!
www.crossfitleduc.com

Haaaaaaammmiiiiiiiies...

No Explanation Necessary

Every single year, when the calendar passes Christmas and Boxing Day and the week before New Years meanders on, we start to see more and more posts about how the past year can bite it, because it sucked, and hopefully the next year is better...
Like every year, we are handed a fresh, brand new sheet of paper to turn into something amazing, and then here we are again, on Dec 29, balling it up to toss over our shoulder and begin again on January 1.

We define our lives by the sh*tty things that happen.  We define an entire year by the sh*tty things that happened.  How often do you hear someone say, "man, that was just a really great year!".  On December 29?  Not many...

But what if instead of remembering the few awful things that happened, and deciding that the whole year should be scrapped, we chose the things we achieved, obstacles we overcame, and celebrated them, but then scrapped the whole resolution bulls*t instead?  Hmmmmmm?  Whadyathink?!?!

Some not so pleasant things happened last year, but way, way more phenomenal things happened, and  I looked back on 2017 with pride.  See the good.  Find the positive.

I do not make resolutions because I don't need that kind of negativity in my life.

Instead, I make goals.  Doesn't "goal crusher" sound way cooler than "resolution crusher"?  It does.  I'll just go ahead and answer it for you.  Goals are measurable.  Goals have plans and action and the acceptance of setbacks.  Goals will still be around in June.  Resolutions are usually just a fart in the wind by then.

My goal this year?  To stop seeking approval.  Validation.  I am enough.  I do not owe anyone an explanation for how I live my life, and I do not need to hear yours.  Make your page beautiful this year.  You do you.

There's a window where I work, where, in good lighting, you will catch a perfect reflection of yourself.

I've worked here long enough to see many different reflections looking back at me, and many of them have made me sad, and many of them, including my gigantic pregnant bellies, have made me so happy.

I can recall seeing myself, after returning from my last maternity leave, and noticing that my shoulders were rounded.  I remember thinking to myself, that my goal was to sculpt myself some nice shoulders.

I caught myself in that window the other day.
Goal = achieved.

I am on the single digit weeks in prep for my photo shoot in January, and I am driven as f*ck.
Let me tell you, my focus is sharp, and my "why's" are crystal freakin' clear.
I know why I'm doing this, and I am so confident in myself, that when you have something to say about my transformation, I do not feel the need to respond.  I am just that confident.

I heard a fella on Instagram the other day, Gary Vee, you may have heard of him.  He's a crazy motivating individual, and he will make you believe in your damn self.  He was talking, passionately, about goals. The message was, who's permission are you waiting for?  And it.  Was.  Good.

There were some choice words in his video, but I would venture to say they were warranted, but the truth is that most of us are scared of our goals, sometimes because we are seeking permission from somewhere. Acknowledgment.  Validation.  As if, once we get that, only then can we pursue our goals.  What?!  Like, why?? Sometimes, you need to be super honest with yourself.  What bullsh*t excuse is it this time?  Are you waiting for permission?  Who's green light do you need before you can go on and live the life you want?  Who's?  It has only been when I decided, for my damn self, to do what I want, that I have been the most happy.  That I have felt like I have had the most purpose.

But, why do you want to do a photo shoot?
For myself.  That's it.  Myself.

I do not owe you, or anyone else an explanation.

You?  Person I don't know very well?  Or maybe even person I do know well.  I will not explain to you why I am making the choices I am.  I've learned that opinions should be regarded like shoes.  Check them out, perhaps nod and then move on.  Do.  Not.  Put.  Stock.  Into either shoes or opinions.  Both will come and go, and pass you by, and neither will have any bearing on your life.

I am very close to having my day.  I will be uncomfortable.  I will have some difficult days leading up to.  This is the sprint though.  This is the part where I leave it all out there.  No more saving it.  This is the time to empty the tank.  I did not come this far to only come this far.  My hope is that I will have this memory forever.  There will be photos that will baffle me.  I'm positive there will be bloopers pics too that shall  never be released for other human eyes!  This has been such an emotional ride, and the closer I get, the more I can feel the doubt.  The wishers-that-I-fail-'ers.  It's hard to know that there are people who want to see you fall.  Waiting for it, even.  But my goal this year is that I will not worry about other people.  I will have such strong faith in myself and my abilities, that I won't have the peripheral vision, even, to notice the peanut gallery.

Transformation game is strong, and it's just barely 2018.

Stand UP.

Stop standing like that!

I heard that one day from my very favorite physiotherapist during our warm up at the gym.

I slouch.
All the time.

It's a terrible habit and I started to say, "I can't help it...", before she cut me off with, "Yes.  You can."
And she's right.

A lifetime of being a chubby girl has trained my body to have a permanent hunch.
I am trying to concentrate on proper posture and standing tall, but I have to think about it all the time because I've been slouching for 30+ years.

Why have I always rounded my shoulders?  I don't think I would be the first fat person who wanted to fold themselves in, trying to be smaller by bringing my sides closer together.
Stick my chest out?!  WTF?!?!  Do you see how big these things are while I'm slouching?!?!  If I pop them out, they're going to take out a swath of people!!
If I stand tall, I will take up more space.
And I do did not want to do that when I was a larger person.
I'm still learning to live in this body.
I don't recognize myself in pictures and I'm quite sure the vision I have in my head of myself is different from how I actually look.

I should have stood tall and proud then, but now that there are three little peoples' eyes watching me, I feel I need to be especially careful to have good posture - which exudes self confidence through body language.
(Fake it 'til 'ya make it, right?!)
How can I tell them to be proud of themselves, while my body seems to be curling in on itself, in an unnatural looking way?
I'm careful not to criticize my body, which strangely, I never did as a larger person, but now I have to stifle it.
When you gain 5 or 10 pounds, and you weigh 210, it's not really a huge deal and most certainly will go unnoticed.
Gain 5 on a 150lb body?  Your clothes will remind you that it's too much!  Ta-RUST me!

It's important, though.
It's important that I lead by example, and although my kids will only ever remember this version of me, this, size, of me, I lived in a very different meat suit for a much longer period of time than this current one, and it's important, that they know to be confident, at any size.

More importantly, I think they need to know that their body is nowhere near as important as their heart, and that the person they are on the inside is what people remember.  What counts.
So be kind, and hopefully I can teach them that their body is just something they live in.
In a world that tells us to be always conscious of our body, our beauty, I think it's so important to try and show them that without it ever being something they have to think about, they can be confident.

I myself struggle with trying not to think so much about my physical self.
I've been focused, laser-beam focused on changing my body, but I need to now just be, so that I can raise two girls, and a little boy, who are not body conscious, but just, conscious.

So, stand tall, just be confident, and you may have to do what I'm going to do.
Fake it 'til I make it.

On the Daily

So, sometimes when I'm cleaning up my children's dishes, I take the last swig of their drink.

Done it lots of times.
Only this time, my adventurous son had put several bits of his lunch into his milk.
Mmmmmmmm.  I'll just let you imagine that for a sec...
I won't be doing that again.  Lesson learned.

I was wrangling that sweet little cherub into a restless nap today, when I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can order a pumpkin spice latte when Blake and I go on our date tonight?  I need to know what all the hype is about pumpkin spice."

The crazy, hectic, stressful chaos that is daily life, has become so normal, that in the midst of my sons screaming, kicking fight to get to slumber, I can still be daydreaming about this evenings kid-free festivities.

Now, I'm not a type A Mom and I'm certainly not one to stress over the little stuff, but I do recall in the days that Audrey may have been portraying similar behavior in spite of her extreme exhaustion, that I may have just given in, and subsequently suffered the consequences for several more hours before she surrendered to sleep, in a closet.

I'm quite sure it's more the aging process than it is raising little people, but I seem to give fewer and fewer effs about the stresses of life in general.

I know what's important and I wholly engage in what I have prioritized, but I'm finding that I'm happier than I've ever been because I try not to invest energy into sh*t that doesn't matter to me.

Raising good kids.
That's pretty important to me.

Creating and putting the effort into my relationship with my husband.
That's really important to me.

"You treat me like garbage."
She spat at me, through clenched teeth.

We had just spent an hour and a half at the park.
We had brought a friend of hers, even.
And when we walked in the door, and she asked if her friend could stay for dinner, and I said no, and she said this to me.
"You treat me like garbage."

How do I emphasize the depth and pain of her words?
As I remember that I myself have used the word garbage to describe someone else's behavior at one time or another, and now it's being spewed back at me.

I asked her to repeat it.
She wouldn't.

I told her that was the indicator of how hurtful her words had been.
If it hurts to repeat the statement, then it was too mean to have been said in the first place.
I try very, very hard not to say things I will eventually have to apologize for.
I expect the same restraint from my loved ones.

Sometimes the plan is to go something like this:

Take kids to do something fun.
Come home.
Cook and eat dinner together (Eat.  As in, the one beautiful, healthy meal I've made).
Bath/brush teeth/book.
Bed.

Sometimes most times the plan is derailed because, well, life.

Some days are bad.
They start poorly, with a giant cup of coffee through the drive thru, when I'd asked politely for tea, and then they continue to spiral into a self-pity party and end triumphantly in someone vomiting on the floor.
There are no words to emphasize the difficulty that is raising little people into grown ups who are not as*holes.
There are no words to emphasize the struggle that can sometimes be marriage and family.

I've heard that nothing worth doing is easy, and I can only cling to the hope that because it is often so damn hard to be a wife and parent and also try to maintain the original me, that maybe, just maybe we're doing something right.

Note to self:  Must try harder to appreciate the days that are easy, and effortlessly enjoyable.

Not Invisible

How many years have you hated your body?
I have hated mine for most of my life.
Hated it.
Resented it.

I hated how it looked.  How it made me feel.  How it made me feel about myself.  Hated how powerless I felt to change it.  Hated how it made my clothes look, and how it made me a target for second glances and judgemental eyes.  Hated it for betraying me.

I have hated my body for so, so long.
In this process?  Unexpectedly?  I am falling in total love with my body.

A few months ago I asked a friend to do a crossfit competition with me.  This is outside my comfort zone.  I don't consider myself a competitive person.  I like running because you are blended into a crowd.  Most people aren't "focusing" on you.  At this competition I could feel eyes, watching me.  Watching us.  And I was bursting with so damn much pride that I could feel myself well up several times during the day.  My partner, Sam, and I were focused and prepared and when I felt weak, I could hear her cheer, and I knew I could find something deep down inside me, to push through.  My friends from Crossfit Leduc were there too!  Participating, volunteering, supporting.  Amazing.

I stepped into this gym just shy of a year ago.  It was meant to be a short term stay.  I didn't want to drive into the city over the winter.  I am in love with this place.  With the people who call this place home.  I am proud as hell to be a member of this phenomenal facility.  There are a couple of events at this gym, and this past year I volunteered at one, and I chose to be a competitor at this past one.  Both experiences were humbling.  Inspiring.  I have seen some unassuming individuals do some mind-blowing things.  I have seen people bust out a PR.  I did unassisted dips yesterday.  For the first time.  I started to celebrate this win, but had to reel it back in...

"Holy sh*t!  I JUST DID THAT!  Jericho, I can't believe I just did that!"
*clock still running
"Not the time, right?  OK.  I'll just keep doing these..."

It was just one of a few memories I will take away from this competition because there were so, so many.  My friends were so strong and pushed so hard through some seriously tough workouts.  We shouted and cheered for our friends, for athletes we'd never met.  We were in awe of some of the shredded bods and their abilities.  To say that I am grateful to Annie and Brad for putting on another fantastic event doesn't begin to describe my gratitude.

To Sam:  You are f*cking strong! You are so positive and tenacious, and I knew you'd be a great partner!  You kept me afloat and encouraged me to fight when I felt depleted.  You were uncomfortable.  So was I!  But in spite of that, we crushed the day yesterday and though I didn't have many expectations for yesterdays competition, I sure wasn't expecting to make it to the finals!  Thank you for being my gym partner and for pushing me, and for pushing yourself!  You are one bad a*s Mama!  So glad I found you and all the other devoted folks at Crossfit Leduc.

From years of hate and being uncomfortable in my skin, to seeing the pics posted yesterday and not hating even one of them.  Look like a goofball?  Sure.  But I didn't look at one photo and think to myself, "ugh, I look so friggin' fat."  It's a lousy way to feel about yourself all the damn time, and I can tell you that the size of my body hasn't had much influence on how I feel about it.  What has changed how I feel about my body?  My capacity to lift heavy things and persevere through some serious conditioning.  The things this body can do are incredible, if I do say so myself, and I have a funny feeling that had I just, simply changed sizes, that the self-love thing might not have followed in quite the same way.

It's a bit of a strange transition, really.  When I was heavier, I wanted so badly, to just be small enough to be invisible.  Small enough to blend in.  To look "regular".  To be "regular" sized.  I wanted it SO badly.  The funny thing is, the change happens, slowly, and it has momentum.  Slow, but it's there.  Momentum comes in lots of forms, too.  You pull your jeans on and there's no muffin top today.  Someone who hasn't seen you for awhile mentions that you're looking good.  You're not winded when you climb some stairs.  Momentum.  Victories.  And, then, one day you're invisible.  But shortly after, you're visible again.  Because you're starting to love yourself in a new way.  Your confidence starts to burst out like sun rays.  It's an incredible, empowering feeling, to actually enjoy living in your skin.

It makes me want to shake the people who have just started their journeys - "JUST BE PATIENT!  I PROMISE YOU THAT GOOD THINGS ARE COMING!"

You, friend, are about to gain confidence you never knew existed.  You are about to start shedding those feelings of hate, and you are about to reveal to yourself a body that can do amazing things, and that you just might start falling in love with.

I catch a glimpse of the new veins that are emerging on my arms, and I break into a smile.  I can see, and feel new muscles and small crevices where fat is melting away and it makes me almost tear up.  I never thought I was capable of something so incredible, and it's all my doing.  Mine.

I can see the bottom of my ribcage.  Never.  Ever.  I have never been able to see this.  I have always had a layer of soft, comfortable belly to cover it.  I have the beginnings of abs, friends.  F'real.

This body.  This body that I have regarded as my enemy for so long.  But also, this body that has helped create and house three freakin' amazing children.  That has run countless miles.  Completed 2 full marathons and 13 half marathons and one crossfit competition. This body that can squat more than it weighs. This body that can easily keep up with those three kiddos, and that does not harbour bugs to make me sick with illness.  This body.  Mine.  That I have wasted too many years hating.
Now, I am so, so proud of it.
So proud.