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...